The Childhood of the Holmes Boys
by BookwormSH96
Summary: The story of Shelock and Mycroft's childhood. From Sherlock's birth to when he meets John aged 33.
1. Amelia's Pregnacy

Amelia Jones was pregnant for the second time.

Her boyfriend had run off as soon as he found out about the second child. He said he couldn't support her and 2 kids, Mycroft was a handful as it is. They lived in a council flat. Once he had left Amelia started working double shifts at the Country Club, where all the rich business types went for a drink after work. She kept working right up until she reached 24 weeks. She hadn't wanted to stop work but the club made her take the time off work.

Little Mycroft was 3, Amelia and her boyfriend had been struggling to pay the bills. But between them they still kept a happy home. They both knew a second child was too much but the baby was unexpected. And Amelia couldn't have a abortion.

Amelia left Mycroft with her sister while she gave birth. Amelia spoke to her bump the whole way to the hospital.

"Hello darling, I get to see what you look like soon. And we can go buy you lots of pretty things." Despite not knowing the sex of the baby Amelia had herself convinced it was going to be a girl; right up until the moment the doctor called out "It's a boy!" Amelia had herself so convinced she had only thought of a girl's name, "Sherly" after her great aunt.

Sherly the only name she had thought of, Amelia couldn't call her son Sherly, she need something more masculine. The midwife placed her little boy in her arms. Amelia looked at her son, grey eyes and a full head of hair, 'Sherlock' she whispered, looking straight into his eyes.

The baby smiled, "He likes it. He likes the name Sherlock" the midwife said glancing at Amelia.

"Well Sherlock it is then." she said smiling at her little boy, her little Sherlock.

Two days later Amelia was discharged and was allowed to take Sherlock home. She picked Mycroft up from her sisters on the way. Amelia went straight into the flat placed down her bags took Sherlock out of his pram and went and sat on the sofa. Mycroft seemed curious about the new child.

"What's his name?" Mycroft asked as soon as he saw him. Despite being only 3, Mycroft seemed to have quite a large IQ. He could read, and write, and he was quite "well" spoken, and had a very large vocabulary than any other child his age.

"He is called Sherlock, darling." Amelia said. Mycroft looked at his mother and the sleeping figure in her arms.

"Mummy, father isn't coming home is he?" he asked. His face was blank from expression.

Despite the fact Amelia told Mycroft, his dad was visiting some family that were poorly, Mycroft knew she was lying and could see what had been happening.

"No darling, I am afraid he isn't." Amelia said, her head dropped onto her chest as tears began to fall. Mycroft climbed onto the sofa and snuggled in close to his mother.

"It's okay mummy. It's okay." Mycroft said, seeing his mother cry made him feel sad, but he couldn't cry, he was the man of the house now.

**A.N:**

**Hi! Write tis is something new for me. I will try and update this as regually as possible! Hope you enjoy and please leave a review.**


	2. The first four years

Amelia returned to work ten weeks later. Mycroft was in nursery while she worked during the morning, her sister looked after Sherlock. In the afternoons her sister picked up Mycroft and looked after the pair until Amelia finished work at 4.

Then she went home fed Mycroft, gave Sherlock a bottle. She bathed Mycroft and put them to bed by 6. Amelia was in bed by 8 ready to give Sherlock his next bottle at around 12, and then ready to get up at 6 the next morning ready to start all over again.

They fell into a routine, Amelia made just enough money to cover the bills and the cost of food Mycroft and Sherlock grew up quickly, Sherlock showed the same level of intelligence as Mycroft. Amelia struggled through life. she went day to day, up, feed the boys, drop them off, work, home, feed the boys, bathe them, put them to bed, do a small amount of tidying up ', before crashing out on the sofa.

Mycroft went to primary school, he exceeded in his lessons, and he could have been in classes three or four years older than him. Sherlock copied his brother. Arround the house he followed Mycroft like a lost puppy.

At 6 months old Sherlock said his first word, "Crofty". All he would do is crawl around the flat yelling "Crofty! Crofty!" Mycroft loved it. He loved the attention and adoration his younger brother gave to him. During the weekends Mycroft to taught Sherlock to read, to speak.

By the time Sherlock was 18 months old Sherlock spoke extremely well and could read books by himself. Unlike Mycroft who was happy with everything he was told, Sherlock wanted to know everything, he questioned anything someone told him. his favourite word became "why?" his curiosity lead to little experiments once he hit 2 and a half, he wanted to what happened to playdoh when you left it outside for a week. And he once tried to dissect a woodlouse with a thorn.

Mycroft tried to make his brother more civilised, but his attempts were pushed aside, Sherlock had too much of a thirst for knowledge.

* * *

When Sherlock was 4, Amelia started dating again. She had avoided the dating scene, well she hadn't avoided it, it was just that she had her boys to care for, and she was busy at work. But this guy was different, he made the first move, well it took him long enough, he asks her out.

His name was James Holmes; he was a successful business man and heir to a multi million pound company. He went to the country club, he saw her as she was serving at the bar, and the whole night long sat staring at her. He came back the next week; he sat at his own table, refusing to be served by anyone other than Amelia. Every week he came back, only letting Amelia sever him. The country club didn't mind the Holmes' were one if the clubs biggest sponsors. 2 months after he first laid eyes on Amelia, James finally asked her to dinner.

She had been serving him his cognac. She placed it on the table, "There you go Sir. Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked.

James shook his head. Amelia turned and left the table. "Wait, Amelia, come back." James called.

Amelia turned back "Yes Sir?" she said when reached the table again.

"Amelia I have asked you to call me James, I hate all that formality."

Amelia nodded "Yes Sir... I mean James." Amelia stumbled her words.

James just smiled. "That's better. Amelia I was wondering if you would join me for dinner? Lets say Saturday night?"

Amelia blushed "Well then? Will you?"

Amelia shook her head, "I am sorry sir but no, I cannot." she turned to leave.

James caught her wrist, "Why?" James asked, looking in her eyes.

Amelia straightened, "Because I have my boys to look after Sir." she turned to leave again, but James held her wrist.

"Get a baby sitter then" he said.

"I can't! I can't afford a babysitter. My sister looks after the boys enough as it is. I am sorry Sir but the answer is still no." Amelia pulled her wrist free from James grasp and then walked off.

Every week James asked Amelia to have dinner with him. 3 weeks after he first plucked up the courage to ask Amelia out, he changed his tactic "what about you and the boys come round to my house for the day, we could go swimming, play in the garden and just have fun together."

Amelia gave James a funny look. "You can't be serious." she smirked.

"Well if it is the only way for you to go out with me on date then yes, your boys can come along. What are they called?" James asked.

"Mycroft and Sherlock." Amelia said.

"Well they are unusual names, but in a good way." James smiled at Amelia. "So you will come?"

Amelia smiled and nodded. "Yes."

James smile widened, "Thank you. I will send a car to pick you 3 up at... let's say 10 Saturday morning?"

Amelia nodded, "Do you have a pen? So I can I can write my address for the car, so it knows where it need to go?"

James patted his suit, and checked his trouser pockets, finding a pen in one of them. He handed the pen and a napkin to Amelia where she wrote down her address. James grabbed the napkin, finished his cognac rose then left, wishing Amelia goodbye.

**A.N:**

**Right I am extremely shocked with in 5 minutes of me putting up the first chapter I had reviews! Wow! Thank you! You guys are brilliant! So I hurried this chapter up for you! Thank you! And please leave a review.**


	3. At the Holmes residence

Amelia went home that day and told the boys they were going out on Saturday. Saturday came, promptly at 10 a posh black car pulled up outside the flat. Sherlock and Mycroft were looking forward to going somewhere new.

Mycroft loved the whole idea of the chuffer driven black car. He sat in the back miming that he was drinking some expensive drink and on the phone to the Prime Minister.

Sherlock on the other hand sat murmuring to himself. They drove for a two hours; they had left the city and entered a rural area. The houses were big buildings, some verging on palaces, the houses were miles apart.

Eventually the car pulled into a drive way of a traditional style mansion. It had big column pillars and huge windows.

A maid and a butler stood by the entrance. The boys pressed their faces to the window of the car. Their mouths were open.

Mycroft turned and looked at his mother, "Mummy are we visiting the queen?" he asked.

Amelia went to answer but Sherlock cut in. "Of course not Crofty! Stop being silly!" Mycroft scowled at Sherlock, but Sherlock just grinned.

The car came to a stop outside out sound the house. The butler came up to the car and opened the door."Miss Amelia, I presume."

Amelia nodded as she got out of the car. The boys had already clambered out and were running around the driveway. "Sherly! Crofty! Come here now." Amelia called after her boys.

They walked back over to their mother. "Now boys behave. This isn't our house, and it is a very expensive house. Do you understand?"

The boys nodded.

The butler nodded for them to follow him. They entered the building. The hallway had tall ceilings and a grand spiral stairs case with a large crystal chandler suspended from the centre of the ceiling. Mycroft and Sherlock gasped.

Amelia took in her surroundings, the vibrant wallpapers with intricate designs, and the vintage wooden furniture that scattered around the edge of the room.

"Amelia!" Amelia turned and saw James standing at the top of the stairs.

"Hello James." Amelia said, as James ran down the stairs. Mycroft and Sherlock glanced at each other and smirked grinned. "And this pair must be Mycroft and Sherlock." James said turning to the boys.

"No I am the Prime Minister!" Mycroft declared, trying not to laugh.

"And I am Captain Creiff, meanest pirate of the seven seas!" Sherlock said, before he and Mycroft broke into fits of laughter.

"Boys! Mr Holmes has been kind enough to invite us to his home! I brought you up better than this!" Amelia raised her voice.

The boys immediately stopped laughing and dropped their head. They both muttered an apology.

James laughed "Amelia don't worry the boys are only having some fun! So what do you want to do first boys? We can go out in the Garden or go for a swim?"

"Could we see your library Mr Holmes? Please?" Sherlock asked, making sure he was extra polite.

"Sherly, not here please..." Amelia begged.

James looked puzzled, "What is he doing Amelia? And how does he know I have a library? I didn't say about one."

Amelia sighed, "I guess I better explain. Mycroft and Sherlock are extremely intelligent for their age, and they observe things. They can tell what people do, what they have been up to and other things."

"So Sherlock can tell I have a library, how?" James asked.

Amelia looked at Sherlock, "Explain to Mr Holmes, Sherly."

Sherlock scuffed his shoes on the floor. When he spoke he remained staring at the floor. "Well Sir, there is a certain smell to the house, the smell of old books. The only way you would be able to smell it is by having a large collection of books. So in a house this size, there would be a library. Plus the fact there is quite a large pile of books by the door."

Amelia was very embarrassed; _Sherlock_ _was basically saying James' house smelt._ James stared at Sherlock, "Wow! That is impressive. You must be very proud of the pair of them, Amelia."

Amelia blushed, "Of course I am they are my little clever boys. And they can take care of their dear old Mother in her old age." Amelia giggled at her own little joke.

James looked at Amelia and gentled touched her hand. "Well maybe they won't have to look after you in your old age." This made Amelia blush even more.

"So boys what do you want to do? We can look at library later. But first let's do something outside." James said turning to the boys, with a huge grin on his face.

Mycroft took control, "Could we go swimming Sir? Where is the nearest swimming pool? Is it far? Because if is too far we can just go out in the garden." Mycroft was polite, using the manners his mother had taught him, which Sherlock hadn't quite grasped yet.

James smiled. "First things first, please don't call me Sir, that's my father. Second, of course we can go swimming, I assume Amelia you brought the boys swimming trunks?"

Amelia nodded and pulled out 2 swimming trunks from her hand bag. "Unfortunately James I didn't bring towels."

James laughed, "Don't worry about towels! You have seen the size of this place! I can tell you that there are definitely some towels in this place."

The boys headed towards the front door, James looked at the pair of them.

"Where are you going?" James asked. Mycroft and Sherlock looked at each other.

"To the car. We are going swimming right?" Mycroft quizzed.

James chuckled. "Yes we are going swimming but, the pool is in the pool house, out in the back garden. So you two are going the wrong way."

Amelia smiled at the look on the boys faces as they walked back towards them rather embarrassed. Sherlock mumbled to himself, by the sounds of things he was annoyed at himself for not realising. Mycroft didn't really seem to care as much as Sherlock.

James led them through the house. Amelia walked beside Sherlock, she took his hand and squeezed it, "It's okay Sherly, you're getting better. You made a brilliant observation. You impressed James, surely that's what counts." Amelia said smiling at her son.

James came to a large pair of doors. He stopped and opened them revealing the pool house with a huge swimming pool. The boys grabbed their swimming trunks off their mother before running to the changing rooms James pointed out on the other side of the pool house.

James walked along side Amelia to the poolside before following after the boys to the changing rooms. Amelia and sat at the edge of the pool. She removed her shoes and socks before dangling her feet into the water.

Several minutes passed, Amelia just let the water swirl around here feet, suddenly she splashed with water. Sherlock had ran at the pool and jumped in. While Mycroft took a more _civilised_ approached and climbed into the pool.

Amelia laughed as James came out and sat beside her, "Sure you don't want to come in too?" James asked.

"I am fine. Go and have fun." She said, nudging James slightly. James grinned and slipped into the pool.

Amelia watched the boys and James for hours play about in the pool. Sherlock made James and Mycroft walk off the diving board like they were _walking_ the plank. They came out briefly for something to eat before scrambling back into the pool.

At 8 Amelia told the boys to get out and get changed, as they would have to start going home. The boys sulkily climbed out the pool and walked to the changing room.

James climbed out the pool, grabbed a towel and came and sat next to Amelia. "Your boys are lovely they are great kids."

Amelia smiled, "They are. They do me proud. You get on great with them. I haven't seen them have that much fun in a long time."

"Well neither have I. We must do this again sometime." James smiled back, placing his hand over Amelia's.

The boys came out of the changing rooms and ran over to them; Amelia quickly pulled her hand away from James'.

"Okay boys are we ready to go?" Amelia asked, standing up. The boys nodded. "Well what do you say to James?"

"Thank you James, for letting us come to your house." Mycroft said, giving his hand to James, who shook it.

"You're welcome Mycroft." James said smiling.

"Yes thank you James, but we didn't see you library." Sherlock said. James chuckled and Amelia blushed from embarrassment.

"Well you can see it next time you come round." James said chuckling, Sherlock smiled.

They walked back through the house. When they reached the front door, a black car pulled up. The boys climbed into the car, Amelia stood next to James. "Thank you for a lovely day." Amelia said.

"You're welcome." James said. He leaned close and kissed her on the cheek. "See you at the Country club."

Amelia smiled then walked over to the car and climbed in. The door was shut and the driver started the car. Amelia waved at James through the window as they drove away from the house.

**A.N:**

**Thank you sooo much for such a great response to this story! I send you all internet hugs! Right this may seem all nice and lovely, but I am sorry it does get a little darker a few chapters down the line. Sorry. But for now I hope you enjoy it! Thank you and please leave a review.**


	4. First date

Over the next few months Amelia and the boys would spend the day at James once a fortnight. Sherlock got to see James' gigantic library.

Amelia still served James when he came to the country club. They exchanged polite conversation. James would ask how the boys were and still kept asking her to dinner with him. For months Amelia still refused, only agreeing to the days at his house where they boys were included.

But one night at the club, Amelia was serving James his 3rd cognac of the evening. James stopped Amelia for a quick chat. "So you haven't spoken to me all evening." James said.

Amelia blushed slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind tonight. How are you?"

James chuckled, "You say you have something bothering and you just asked how I am? This is one of the reasons why I want you to have dinner with me." Amelia shook her head in protest and went to argue, but James stopped her. "I will even pay for a baby sitter. Please just one meal, that's all I want."

James cupped her hands in his. "One meal that is all I want. Please Amelia." James begged "I'll get on the floor and beg if I have to."

James got out of his seat and lowered himself onto his knees."Okay, okay please just get back up. I will have _one_ meal with you. Happy now? Amelia said helping James up.

James got back in his seat, smiling triumphantly. "I have to get back to work James, so when are we going out?" Amelia asked.

"Hmmm the next day you're off work. You have Friday night off this week, so let's say Friday night at 7 o'clock, I'll pick you up. Sound good?"

Amelia smiled and nodded. She went to walk away but James pulled her back for a moment. "Thank you." He smiled. He grabbed Amelia's hand and raised it to his face. He kissed her hand, before letting it go again.

Amelia blushed again, smiling at James; she walked away and got back to work.

* * *

On Friday night Amelia got ready for her with James. She had organised for someone to watch over the boys. While she got ready in her room, Sherlock and Mycroft sat in the living room. Sherlock sat playing with some pirate action figures while Mycroft sat reading.

Sherlock sat up and thinking out loud, "Mummy and James are going to get married."

Mycroft looked up from his book and sighed, "How did you decide that one Sherlock?"

"Well they are really close, mummy is happier when she is around him. And James has been asking mummy to have dinner with him for ages." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock you have just turned 5, marriage shouldn't make much sense to you." Mycroft said sarcastically.

"Well it makes sense Crofty. I am not stupid you know." Sherlock said pouting at Mycroft.

Mycroft chuckled; Sherlock reached over to the sofa and grabbed the nearest pillow throwing it at Mycroft, before laughing. Mycroft ran at Sherlock pinning him to the floor, before tickling his little brother.

"Mycroft... Stop... It... PLEASE!" Sherlock yelled between fits of laughter.

The boys rolled around on the floor. Amelia had finished getting ready and walked into the living room to find them on the floor. "Mycroft! Sherlock! Stop it now!" The boys stopped, Mycroft got up and returned to his place on the sofa. While Sherlock sat up and brushed down his clothes.

Amelia stood looking at the pair, hands on hips, "What do you think you are doing? Why aren't you ready for bed? It is nearly 7and you're not even in your pyjamas yet! Boys I am going out tonight and I just want you to behave. Be nice to the babysitter, don't wind her up, you should be in bed anyway. Okay?"

The boys nodded to their mother, keeping their heads down, too scared to look at her. "Right okay, now into your bedroom and get ready for bed, I will come and say good night in a minute."

Mycroft and Sherlock stood up slowly and walked into their bedroom. The doorbell rang; Amelia walked to the front door and opened it. "Ahh. Hello Mary darling, thank you for agreeing to baby sit at such short notice." She let Mary in, closing the door behind her. "The boys are getting ready for bed and I am going in to say good night in a minute. They shouldn't be any problem, but you have the restaurants number, encase there is an emergency."

Mary nodded. "Okay, good I am going to go say good night before James gets here. Make yourself at home; take whatever you want from the fridge." Amelia said, as she headed to Mycroft and Sherlock's room.

She knocked on the door before entering; she opened the door slowly to see the pair in bed. "Thank you." Amelia said as she walked over to Sherlock, "Sleep well Sherly and I'll see you in the morning. Okay?"Amelia asked as she tucked Sherlock in. Sherlock nodded from inside his bed sheets. Amelia leaned over and kissed Sherlock's forehead. Then she went over to Mycroft and did the same.

Once she had tucked in both of the boys she headed towards the door, with her finger on the light switch, she said good night. As she was closing the door to their room the door bell rung again.

Amelia rushed to the door, opening it to see James standing there in a grey suit, holding a single red tulip. "James, do come in a second. I just need to grab my bag." Amelia said holding the door open.

"Please take your time. I brought you this." James said handing over the tulip. "Red tulip, it means undying love."

Amelia took the tulip, blushing at its meaning. "Thank you it is beautiful."

"You look stunning tonight Amelia." James said looking at Amelia.

Amelia was wearing a plain black dress which fitted perfectly, her long dark brown curly hair hung loose, not tied up like it was for work. This comment from James made her blush even more. "Thank you James, you look nice as well this evening, particularly handsome."

Amelia quickly went into the kitchen and filled a vase with water and placed the tulip inside. She carried it round into the living room placing it on the coffee table before quickly grabbing her bag from her bedroom.

When she returned James stood up, "Are we ready?" James asked. Amelia nodded, as she placed a shawl around her shoulders. James held out his arm, Amelia placed hers around his. They made their way out to the car which waiting down by the apartment's entrance.

They got into the car and were driven to the restaurant. They were shown to their table. They sat and talked, enjoying the food, the wine and each other's company. James let Amelia do most of the talking letting her talk about the boys and work. He just sat sipping his wine, staring at her.

Towards the end of the meal Amelia stopped. She had tried to get James to talk but he wouldn't. "James. What is wrong? You have barely said a single word all night." Amelia said looking worried.

James smiled at her and grabbed her hand gently. "Nothing, nothing is wrong with me. In fact I couldn't be happier."

"But you seem so quiet. You keep fiddling with your pocket like you are desperate to get out of here." Amelia said.

"Please my dear don't worry I promise there is nothing wrong with me." James said.

"Fine. If you won't tell me I am leaving. I hate being lied to. You won't tell me then I am going and you can get someone else to serve you at the club. I will not be used. I have my boys to look out for." Amelia said starting to rise out of her seat.

"Amelia please seat down. Fine I will tell you." Amelia sat back down into her seat. "I was going to do this later but I guess it is now or never." James rose out of his seat and knelt down in front of Amelia. Grasping her hands in his, before reaching with one hand to his jacket, producing a small box. "Amelia Jones would you do me the honour of becoming Mrs Amelia Holmes?" James opened the small box to reveal a gold wedding ring.

James looked at Amelia for a answer. "Yes or no?" James smiled.

**A.N: I nearly forgot my little foot note bit... Well I did forget about it fall asleep for 30 minutes then remembered... Anyway back to the chapter well... I apoligise if it is really bad, I didn't feel too good soo it isn't as good as I hoped... :( Sorry, I will try and make sure the next one is better, but I am sorry after the next chapter we are going down hill,it will get sad... Just to warn you... But that is all I am saying. And if you are wondering why I am certain of what will happen it is because I have to plan everything so on a peice of paper in my house, there is a list of what happens in each chapter (briefly) I THANK YOU ALLLL FOR THE REVIEWS AND THE ALERTS AND THINGY MAGIGS! They are very encouraging! It is lovely to hear what you think! Anyway I am babbling now... sorry you don't have to read this. Lets try this again shall we:**

**Hi thanks for reading, Sorry if its a bad chapter, the writing will get a little better next chapter. But till then please leave a review! **

**(There why didnt I just write that ^^ in the first place...)**

**P.S I realise it may seem that James is asking Amelia to marry him a bit quickly ( on their first date...) But when Amelia, Mycroft and Sherlock have gone round his house in some ways they were dates as well. And they have been doing that regually for a while, so in some ways they have been going out for a while... SORRY I AM BABBLING AGAIN! Lack of sleep does this to you people... right I am shutting up now. **


	5. And the last date

"Yes or no?" James smiled.

The whole restaurant had fallen silent. Amelia blushed, too shocked for words.

"I want to take care of you and your boys, for the rest of my life." James said.

Amelia started crying. "Amelia please don't be upset, I am sorry. I have now made our friendship awkward." James said holding her hands. He started to put the ring away.

Amelia stopped him; she grabbed the box off of him. She removed the ring and placed it onto her left fourth finger. James looked at her, his jaw dropped. "You accept?"

Amelia nodded a smile forming on her face. James leaped up and grabbed Amelia. He spun her round, kissing her. "Thank you, so much."

Around the restaurant there were several claps and "Awws". The other people in the restaurant eventually got back to their meals, and went back to their quiet chatter.

Amelia and James sat together, the pair of them with giant grins on their faces. They finished their meal, and then left in James shiny black car.

They returned to Amelia's flat, Mary opened the door. "Welcome back, did you have a good time?" Mary whispered.

Amelia smiled, "A great time." She said, smiling and flexing her left hand fingers out in front of her.

Was confused to begin with, then she noticed the ring on her finger. "Oh my goodness! Congratulations!" She screeched.

"Shh! You will wake the kids!" Amelia shushed, laughing into James' shoulder.

"But you're getting married, Amelia!" Mary whispered, she ran towards Amelia, hugging her.

Mary and Amelia stood hugging each other. James stood awkwardly in the door way. Mary noticed him. "Oi you come here. And give me a hug!" She said breaking away from Amelia.

Mary grabbed James who stood awkwardly in her embrace. After a minute he squirmed away.

He cleared his throat, "Umm, are we going to tell the boys now or in the morning?"

Amelia giggled, "I don't think we need to tell them..."

"Why? Don't you want the boys to know?" James asked rather shocked.

Amelia laughed, "No of course I want them to know, but they already know. Boys come out now." Mycroft and Sherlock slumped round the corner of the living room. "You boys should be in bed."

"I told you Crofty." Sherlock said as he walked behind Mycroft.

"Yes okay alright, you said. Now stop showing off." Mycroft said.

"You two still haven't said why you are not in bed." Amelia said looking at the pair of them.

Sherlock stood looking at the floor, several feet in front of his mother, while Mycroft went straight up to his mother.

"We couldn't sleep..." Sherlock muttered.

Amelia laughed, "Don't try and pull that one on me, if you don't sleep you are up to something. Crofty tell me the truth..." Amelia said. Mycroft shook his head. Amelia gave him a stern look.

"Okay... Sherlock said you and James would be getting married at some point. Once you had left, he also said that it would be tonight that he asked. I didn't believe him, so we stayed up till you came back..." Mycroft said lowering his head.

"Sherly... How did you know that James was going to propose tonight?" Amelia said leaning her head on James shoulder.

"When he came in I watched through the crack of our bedroom door. James kept putting his hand up to his jacket, as if to be checking if something precious was still there. And he kept muttering to himself, like he was practising saying something important. If it was for his job, he wouldn't be going out with you tonight... Only conclusion was he was going to ask you to marry him tonight, sorry Mummy." Sherlock said dragging his feet along the carpet.

James chuckled, "Well this is why I love both you and your boys." He said kissing Amelia forehead and wrapping his arm around her waist, "Come here the pair of you." He crouched down, bringing Amelia with him. When Mycroft and Sherlock reached them they were brought into a hug.

"Aww this is so adorable, the perfect family." Mary said, watching them.

When they broke apart, James and Amelia stood up, "So when shall we set the date?" James asked.

"As soon as possible." Amelia grinned, leaning in to kiss James on the lips.

Mycroft quickly passed his hand over Sherlock's eyes. Amelia and James saw Sherlock trying to swat Mycroft's hand away and burst into laughter.

**A.N:**

**Right, here you go. Trying to get the next chapter up A.S.A.P (Hopefully later today.) Hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank You for all your amazing reviews! You know the drill; Please read and review. ;) **


	6. A not so happy Christmas

**Right, there is a time jump, Sherlock is 7 and Mycroft is 10. So Amelia and James have been married for just under 2 years, James has adopted both Sherlock and Mycroft so they are actually Holmes now, and it is Christmas time. Now that is clear let the chapter begin... ;) Oh and there is some quite upsetting bits :( Just so you know...**

Sherlock ran downstairs, yelling through the house, "Mummy! Daddy James! CROFTY! WAKE UP IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

In the gigantic room that was the Holmes mansion's living room, stood the 10ft Christmas tree, with presents piled underneath. "Hurry up you lot! There are presents to open! Move it!" Sherlock yelled.

"Okay, okay, Sherly. We are coming." Amelia said, as she tied up her dressing gown, as she walked down the staircase next to James. Mycroft sleepily dawdled behind them. "Sherlock it is 5 in the morning!" He complained.

Amelia and James laughed, "Oh come on, Mycroft, cheer up, it's Christmas." James chuckled, squeezing Amelia's hand.

They reached the living room to be pushed the rest of the way by Sherlock.

"Come on hurry up." Sherlock said, as he pushed the pair towards the tree.

They pulled up chairs near the tree. Sherlock slumped on to the floor. Mycroft eventually did the same, as soon as he reached the tree. "Right okay, every one grab a present that they want to give to someone." James said, grabbing a small box addressed to Amelia.

Sherlock and Mycroft also grabbed presents addressed for Amelia. Amelia hadn't been able to choose and held three presents in her hands. "How can I choose between my 3 boys, who to give their present first?" She smiled.

They all handed their presents over, Amelia paused before giving Sherlock his, "Let's see how many you can get right this year." Amelia said winking, before handing over his present.

Sherlock held the present for 2 seconds before announcing, "Microscope." Amelia smiled and nodded.

"You're getting better every year." She grinned.

They opened their presents in turn, after they all open their first presents, they gave someone else a present from them.

James handed Mycroft a long rectangular present. "Here you go Mycroft." He said as he handed it over.

Mycroft tore off the wrapping off the present. Inside was a box, Mycroft lifted the lid to reveal a black umbrella with a wooden handle. On the handle was an engraving in very small writing.

_To Mycroft, _

_Merry Christmas _

_Love Dad James._

Mycroft sat there speechless, the umbrella looked expensive, the handle made from oak. "Thank you Dad." Mycroft said removing the umbrella from its packaging.

"You're welcome Mycroft." He smiled. "You're becoming a young man now, so thought you needed a grown up present."

Amelia smiled at James and placed her head on his shoulder. Sherlock picked up his present for James and gave it to him. "Daddy James here you go." He smiled, handing it over.

James took the present, a small box, it was wrapped rather poorly but Sherlock had really tried. "I saved up my pocket money to get you this." He grinned sweetly.

James unwrapped it and opened the box to reveal a solid silver tie pin and matching cufflinks. "Sherly darling they are lovely, James they are gorgeous." Amelia said, looking rather surprised at how much effort Sherlock had gone to for James.

"Wow. Umm thanks Sherlock." James managed to get out; he placed the lid back on the box and put it on the floor. He reached over and grabbed a smallish present and gave it to Sherlock. "Here you go Sherlock, thought you might like these."

"A set of chemicals?" He asked feeling the weight and shape of the present. He tore of the wrapping paper, smiling. But when he uncovered them his smile dropped. Unlike Mycroft's brand new and shiny present, Sherlock's was old extremely old.

It was an old leather pouch, holding a set of small vials containing a series of chemicals. Each vial had been labelled by hand. Amelia seemed a little worried when she saw it. She glanced at James. "It is an antique set of chemicals from, I was told 1895, they were used in police investigations apparently. I thought you could use them in your little experiments." James smiled. Amelia looked a little less worried when he said this.

Sherlock was still quite upset about his present but tried to hide it. "Thank you Daddy." He choked out.

They carried on with opening presents until; they were told dinner was ready.

At Christmas dinner they seemed to have forgotten about Sherlock's present from James. All seemed fine, but Amelia noticed that James was having one too many glasses of wine.

After dinner, Sherlock went to take his presents up to his room. On the way back from his room, he passed James' study and James raising his voice to someone down the phone. "What do you mean? You have lost the account?"

Sherlock headed towards the door. "I can't believe this! I you have lost me a lot of money! You better get it back quickly, or you better resign." James yelled before slamming the phone back into its holder. He hit his fists onto the desk.

Sherlock looked through the crack in the door. As he watched through the door, he stumbled forward, falling through the doors.

"What are you doing in here you little brat? How much did you hear?" James yelled dragging Sherlock into the office, shutting the doors, and locking them.

"Not much... I swear..." Sherlock sniffled, terrified of James, who was drunk and angry.

"Don't sniffle you little child! Why can't you be like Mycroft? Hmm? He is a lot better than you! It would have been much easier if your mother only had him, I wouldn't have to deal with you!" James yelled.

Sherlock started to crawl away; James stopped him, dragging him back. "Where do you think you are going, you little brat. You need to be taught a lesson."

Sherlock tried to get James to let go of him, but James was too strong. "Get off me!" Sherlock begged. James let him go, and then struck him across the face.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" James slurred as he quickly poured himself a glass of whiskey. He picked it up and drank it in one. Sherlock crawled to the door his lip starting to swell. "Why are you wasting your time, I have the key to the door." James snickered, dangling the key beside him.

"Please, please stop this. Please don't hurt me anymore. I am sorry." Sherlock said tears starting to fall down his cheeks.

"Call yourself a man boy! Crying like a girl!" James yelled, he walked towards Sherlock, "I'll beat it out of you boy!" He started hitting Sherlock again and again. Sherlock curled into a ball; he forced himself to stop crying.

As soon as Sherlock stopped crying James stopped. "That's better." He sighed wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Now get out of my sight." He said chucking the key at Sherlock.

Sherlock got off the floor, grabbing the key. He unlocked to the door and walked out. Sherlock shut the doors behind him. He limped to his room. Once he was in his room he shut the doors and slid down them, whimpering.

After 10 minutes he got up and went into his en-suite bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror he saw how bad his injuries were. His bottom lip was bleeding and swollen, and his eye was rather swollen as well. He had several other small cuts on his face.

He cleaned up the majority of the blood. When he dried his face and looked up at the mirror he saw Mycroft standing behind him.

"What do you want?" Sherlock growled.

"What happened?" Mycroft asked.

"What do you think _Mycroft_?" Sherlock said bluntly. Mycroft was taken aback, Sherlock had never called him 'Mycroft' before, in Sherlock's eyes he had always been 'Crofty'.

"I'm going to tell Mummy..." Mycroft said turning to leave.

"Don't. It will upset her. As far as she is concerned this was an accident." He said pointing to his face.

"Okay. Just tell my why." Mycroft said, truly concerned for his brother.

"You. That is why Mycroft. You are the reason this happened. You and your _perfection_; surely it was obvious from your stupid umbrella!" Sherlock yelled turning to look at his brother. "Now leave me alone!" Sherlock snapped.

"But Sherlock..."Mycroft said heading towards his brother.

"I said leave Mycroft." Sherlock growled.

Mycroft turned and left, he swore from that day forward he would keep that umbrella with him at all times to remind him why Sherlock hated him.

Sherlock was left in his room. After cleaning up his wounds, Sherlock collapsed on his bed and slept, taunted with nightmares of James beating him.

He spent the rest of Christmas in fear, his nightmares became too much to handle, so he only slept when it was completely necessary. Mycroft tried to look over his brother but he was pushed away by Sherlock. Amelia remained completely oblivious.

**A.N:**

**So that is the origin of Mycroft' Umbrella and Sherlock's chemical set (the one that appears in the great game... Well my version :3) I am sorry for how upsetting this chapet is... :( I will tell you this I cried while writing it and got funny looks from my mother. :( Anyway I am babbling again... Please read and review and I am sorry for any tears and upsetting feelings :( **


	7. Carl Powers

**Shelrlock is 11 and Mycroft is 14... **

It had been nearly four years since James first started beating Sherlock. HE had started secondary school. At first he loved the idea of a change. A fresh start, new people no one calling him 'freak' but within a few days that changed. There were new bullies; the names got worse and the threats got violent.

Sherlock had offered to go to a boarding school, so he could escape the violence, but somehow it had followed him. It had followed him like his own shadow.

It was a Saturday and he had just told some kid that his dad was cheating on his mum and that they were going to get divorce. He didn't mean to say it but it had just slipped out. Within seconds he was on the floor being beaten by the youth and a gang of his mates. "Freak!" One shouted.

That was it the names, chants, horrible words came out;

"Bloody weirdo!"

"You should learn to keep your mouth shut!"

"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one? Some bloody genius you are!"

The words came with blows from the fist and kicks. Sherlock just curled into a ball a move practiced so many times.

He didn't cry, that had stopped months ago, his emotions were gone, turned off like a tap forever. Sherlock had become stone.

Eventually the youth and his mates got bored and stopped. There was no fun in beating up someone who didn't react in the slightest. Once they had left Sherlock unfurled himself and rose from the floor. As he moved he felt pain in his ribs. His hand went up to his face; he couldn't feel any cuts or swelling. That was a good thing the bruises on his arms and ribcage he could hide, but when he had cuts and bruises on his face, he had Mycroft on his case; asking him what happened, threatening to tell Mummy if he didn't tell him.

Sherlock hobbled towards his dorm room, hoping he didn't bump into Mycroft. But as he walked across campus, he was distracted. Passing the sports building, he saw them; about 3 police cars and an ambulance.

Seeing them Sherlock's curiosity kicked in. He had two choices go to his room and rest, have a long bath to help with the pain or investigate what was happening. His curiosity over powered the pain and he changed his path. He walked into the sports building casually trying to hide the pain he was in and also trying not to catch anyone's attention.

The police officers had gathered in the changing room for the swimming pool. Sherlock needed a excuse to actually be there, not that he was just being nosey and curious. Luckily in the panic of what had happened, someone had ditched their swimming kit on a bench. Sherlock picked it up.

Carrying the borrowed kit Sherlock adventured deeper into the changing room, heading closer to the police officers. They stood around the lockers; they cleared out one placing the lockers in contents a clear evidence bag. He recognised the clothes, he had seen them on a certain boy, he was here for a swimming competition. He must have been practising that morning.

Sherlock stopped and watched them, taking in every movement, everything they did.

"Oi you boy. What are you doing in here boy?" One police officer said as he saw Sherlock standing there.

"I umm... I am here to have a swim; I come here every Saturday for a swim." Sherlock said innocently, holding up his borrowed swimming kit.

"Well the pool is closed, this police business." The officer said. "Move along now."

Sherlock looked closely in the evidence bag, something was missing something important. "Where are his shoes?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"What do you mean? Where are his shoes? It doesn't matter, they aren't here. He probably left them somewhere and they have been stolen. Now I have told you, clear off!" The officer said rather annoyed, he took a step toward Sherlock.

"He loved those shoes! He would not leave them out anywhere! They would have gone into his locker." Sherlock protested remembering how neat and clean those shoes had been, despite the recent rain and the fact that the grounds were extremely muddy.

"How do you know all this? Any way it isn't like it matters the boy drowned, that is all that happened. Now for the last time, get going!" The police officer yelled. He moved closer to Sherlock. Sherlock back off slightly but refused to leave.

"I saw the boy earlier. His shoes were clean, despite it being extremely muddy outside. You need to find his shoes. They are important in this, he was murdered! He is a good swimmer it is highly unlikely he would just drown in a swimming pool! He was in a _swimming_ contest! So you need to find his shoes! They are a particular reason his shoes are missing!" Sherlock protested.

"Right that's it! You ignored my warnings. Someone escort this kid out of here." The officer shouted pointing at Sherlock. Two officers approached him. They grabbed him by his shoulders and escorted him out the building. Sherlock didn't go quietly; "Find his shoes! It was murder! I am telling you! It wasn't an accident!"

Sherlock was told to be quiet; soon they pushed him out of the building.

"Right young man stay away from here, and enough of your interfering. Go and do whatever it is you normally on weekend."One of his escorts said, pointing in a random direction away from the sports building.

Sherlock walked away, he was right, there was something wrong with the fact the boys shoes were missing.

Four days later: Holmes mansion

The school made the children go home for a week so the police just conduct a full investigation without the children running around. But the police had finished there investigation by the end of Sunday.

Amelia and James were away on a _business_ trip, so Sherlock was stuck with Mycroft for another 3 days.

On Wednesday, the paper came with only a small article on the boy;

**_CARL POWERS DROWNS IN SWIMMING POOL._**

_Carl Powers a young boy from Sussex drowned 4 days ago in a local London boys boarding school. _

_Carl Powers was in the area, along with several other boys, for a swimming competition. When he started fitting in the water. Unfortunately the life guards and staff could not get to him in time. Despite the staff performing CPR immediately, Carl's heart did not restart. _

_The swimming competition was cancelled due to the circumstances. The school give their condolences to the boy's family and friends in this hard time. The school are planning to hold a memorial in the next few days. _

And that was it, nothing else, just that and a picture of Carl smiling and happy.

Sherlock sighed after reading it. "They're wrong. His shoes... " He mumbled to himself.

Mycroft looked up from his chair. "What did you say Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, looking at his brother.

"I didn't say anything that concerns you Mycroft." Sherlock said, scowling at his brother.

"Well if you are finished with the paper I would like it now, please." Mycroft said holding his hand out for the paper.

Sherlock looked at his brother once before tossing the paper into the fire. "It's all wrong Mycroft you don't want to read it." Sherlock said as the paper burned in the fire place.

"Yes I am sure it was Sherlock." Mycroft said blankly as he made a mental not to go and get a new newspaper.

**A.N So so so so sorry about how long this took to write up! Going to get to wrok straight away on the next chapter! Thank you for all you comments! Please read and review! **


	8. Holiday alone

**A.N: Sherlock is now 15 and Mycroft is 18. Warning, some mild bad language and abuse. Sorry.**

It had been 4 years since the Carl Powers case, Sherlock had tried to get involved with police cases, but they turned him away. Mycroft had learned to read the paper before his brother, because whenever there were enough facts in the paper about a case, Sherlock would nearly always conclude the police were wrong. Then Sherlock would throw it into the fire and watched it burn.

Amelia and James were practically never home. Which Sherlock didn't mind, it meant that James couldn't hurt him. But when James was home, he beat Sherlock badly, leaving him in pain on the floor trying not to cry.

Amelia didn't want to always be away from her boys, but James had a lot of business trips to go on and wanted company. So Amelia left knowing that her boys were in boarding school most of the times. She always said they would try and be home for the school holidays. But they never were.

...

It was the first October half term after Mycroft had gone to university. As he was now in university, Mycroft didn't have half term holidays. So Sherlock was left home alone.

The boredom kicked in almost immediately. Within a few hours experiments had started. What burn marks were left when you burned a 300 page book? Sherlock even went round the neighbouring houses and around town asking for samples of people's tobacco, claiming it was for a school project. He wrote what each sample was on a small bag. Once he had a good hundred he went home and burned them, comparing the ashes. Many burned similarly, so produce completely different ashes.

Sherlock recorded every single result. Making pages and pages of notes on the differences, and how you could tell what type of tobacco it was by the colour, density and texture of the ashes.

But toward the end of the week his experiments got out of hand. Sherlock was trying to test how long a litre of oil would burn for, but when he lit the oil, the whole thing burst into huge flames. Causing surrounding objects to catch alight, soon the fire was too out of hand to contain.

Sherlock ran to the nearest phone and started to call the fire brigade, silently he counted his blessings, knowing that his Mother and James were thousands of miles away somewhere.

But he counted his blessings too soon as the front door to the house opened. Amelia and James walked through the door placing their bags on the floor. Sherlock saw them, and his heart sank, the one man in the world he feared was walking through the doors, and Sherlock had set that man's house alight.

"Sherlock, darling what are you doing?" Amelia asked looking at her son.

Sherlock lip trembled, as he looked at James how stood behind his mother and gave him a stern look. "Umm, I was phoning the fire brigade..."

Amelia and James spoke simultaneously;

"Why, darling what has happened?" Amelia said calmly, concerned for her baby boy.

"What? What is on fire? Explain everything now!" James roared.

Sherlock froze for a moment, "The kitchen... it caught fire... I couldn't stop it. I couldn't put it out. So I called the fire brigade... We need to get out of here."

"What?! What have you done?! How did you do this?!" James yelled.

Amelia walked over to Sherlock and stood beside her son. Just about the same height as Sherlock. She placed a hand on his shoulder, "James, now I am sure it wasn't Sherlock's fault. If the fire was caused by Sherlock somehow I am sure he is sorry. But for all of our safety, we need to get out of here." Amelia said rather calmly but begging for the pair to get out of the house.

James cast a dark look towards Sherlock, and then looked kindly towards his wife. He extended his hand towards her. Amelia smiled and walked forwards and grabbed his hand. They turned and walked towards the door. In the doorway Amelia paused, James pulled against her hand wanting her to keep walking. Amelia looked at Sherlock, "Come on Sherly." Amelia said gesturing towards her son.

Sherlock raised his head to look at his mother. Amelia's face was filling with longing, her expression pleading Sherlock to follow them. Sherlock just nodded and started to follow behind.

As soon as Sherlock started to move, James tugged Amelia's hand again and led her through the door. Sherlock walked through the door behind them, the hallway behind him filling with smoke.

Stepping into the evening air, Sherlock saw Amelia and James on the far side of the drive way. Sherlock went to approach them but James saw Sherlock head towards them, and pulled Amelia away; distancing the pair of them away from Sherlock.

The fire brigade came; they put out the fire, unable to save the kitchen, but the fire hadn't spread any further. Amelia the next morning went into town, to look at getting the kitchen fixed and redecorated. James sat in his office doing business saying he was too busy to join accompany Amelia. Sherlock stayed in his room, hiding away full of shame and guilt.

Amelia left promising to be back within an hour.

Sherlock sat on his bed, reading through his books on the human anatomy and psychology, when footsteps, filled the hallway behind the door. Sherlock knew what was happening, he knew all too well.

James was coming, he was angry at Sherlock and Amelia wasn't there.

He paused for a moment, considering his options; he looked towards the door to see his lock had been removed. He had no other choice but to sit and take the blows James would give.

The footsteps stopped, they had reached the door. The door swung open. James stood behind it, red faced, large pupils, swaying slightly. He had been drinking.

Sherlock pushed his books to one side, moving them out the way, James approached Sherlock. "You little brat." James started, his words slurring, "You are in the house 5 minutes and you wreck the place! It was a accident, my arse! You wrecked my house on purpose! I send you to a good school! I give you nice things! And what do I get in return! My house is set alight! You only did it for attention, didn't you?" James said, he had reached Sherlock now, the smell of whiskey on his breath made Sherlock gag.

Sherlock shook his head, "I didn't, it was an accident I swear!" Sherlock begged.

James grabbed Sherlock by his ear, and dragged him off the bed. "No you little brat! You didn't it on purpose" He said, slapping Sherlock across the face.

Sherlock shook his head, trying to protest, James just laughed. "Ha! Don't think I am stupid!" James shouted, slamming Sherlock into the wall full force. Sherlock lip began to bleed. James dragged him out the room, "You set my kitchen on fire on purpose because you think you are the best." James taunted, hitting Sherlock between words.

"Please James. I didn't. I swear." Sherlock coughed.

"Lies!" James roared, shoving Sherlock towards the stairs. Sherlock reached the edge of the top step, but couldn't regain his balance in time. James watched laughing as Sherlock tumbled halfway down the stair case. He stopped half way, lying, clutching his side, with several cuts on his face.

James laughed as he walked down the stairs to Sherlock. He stood towering over Sherlock, his breath causing Sherlock to cough. "You did it on purpose didn't you?" James hissed.

Sherlock's head barley managed a nod. "Yes Sir." He whispered.

James chuckled "Exactly you little brat!" he said before hitting Sherlock one last time. Then he stumbled back up the stairs to his office.

Sherlock lay on the stair broken.

* * *

Mycroft entered his dorm room hours later. The room was dark. He reached for the light switch, as the illuminated, he saw a figure laid out on his bed. The figure was one he recognised. "Sherlock? Sherlock what are you doing here?" Mycroft asked his voice full of concern.

Sherlock rolled over onto his back, and Mycroft saw the cuts and bruises that covered his face and arms. Mycroft walked to the side of the bed, placing his umbrella against the bedroom door. "Sherlock, you need to tell Mummy..." Mycroft said, concern filling his voice.

"You know I can't Mycroft." Sherlock said, his eyes closed, trying to hide the fact he was in pain.

"You have to Sherlock, you can't go on like this." Mycroft protested.

Sherlock's eyes opened, they were red from where he had been crying. "Mycroft, you don't know anything! And why does it even matter! Does it matter? You are his golden boy. He wouldn't do this to you. And you don't know how I feel and how much I can take! I came here for support. But I forgot about how full of yourself you are! I made a mistake." Sherlock said, sitting up. He got off the bed and started walking towards the door.

"Sherlock..." Mycroft pleaded.

"No Mycroft. Leave me alone." Sherlock said, limping towards the door. Sherlock picked up Mycroft's umbrella at threw it across the room; hitting the wardrobe opposite the bed. Sherlock walked out the room slamming the door shut as he left.

He picked up his umbrella and laid it on this desk. Then Mycroft sat on his bed, hoping one day his brother would, realise that he was on Sherlock's side.

**A.N: Hi sorry if this upset anyone! I apoligise! :3 And I thought I would have a little cute moment with Mycroft and Sherlock, which partically balances it out.. Wait not really... :( So again I apoligise again! But please read and review! **


	9. Starting University

**Right in this chapter 18 and Mycroft is 21. Be warned there is some drug reference... **

Sherlock got through secondary school, coping with the bullying and the harsh comments from everyone. He passed his exams with flying colours. The next step was university; Sherlock went to study sciences, unlike Mycroft who went for government and politics. Now Mycroft was just starting out in the British government, running errands, filing paperwork, determined to make it to the top.

To begin with everything seemed fine. No bullying. No nasty comments. No names. But that was mainly because Sherlock kept to himself. Only thing was sometimes he could keep in a comment about someone, or something he had deduced about their family. Sometimes it just slipped out.

Sebastian Wilkes was where it all started. He had come in, and immediately acted like he owned the place. But Sherlock saw that he was just a nobody, really. A full of himself teen that thrived off his parent's money, barley enough brain cells to pass the accounting course he was on.

Sebastian had come up to Sherlock one evening in the dorm room, and demanded to be told everything about Sherlock, saying he wanted to be "friends". Sherlock just sat in his chair next to the fire and carried on reading through his book.

"Excuse me. I asked you about yourself. Have the manners to answer." Sebastian said getting rather annoyed with Sherlock. Sebastian looked over to his friends and smugly said, "Must be a scholarship student, they never have any manners. Probably don't know what they are." He taunted.

Sherlock started to talk, but refused to look up from his book. "I am not a scholarship student. And is you are that stupid that you haven't noticed that no scholarship students are staying in this dorm." That is all he said.

But that wasn't enough for Sebastian. "I know that. I am not an idiot I was joking with you. Gosh can't you take a joke." Sebastian said chuckling.

"No there is a difference between taking a joke and just stating the obvious." Sherlock murmured, still buried deep into his book.

"And you still haven't answered my question. What is your name and tell me about yourself?" Sebastian questioned.

Sherlock groaned, "Just figure it out. It shouldn't be hard, especially if you're that clever." Still refusing to look at Sebastian.

"What are you talking about, work it out?" Sebastian chuckled, looking at Sherlock as if he was crazy. He looked towards the other boys. "Do you understand what he is one about?" The boys just chuckled, shaking their heads.

Sherlock sighed, "If you are that clever you should be able to read everything you want to know about me just by looking."

"Well that can't not be done!" Sebastian said, still chuckling.

"It can be done." Sherlock said. "Observe."

Sherlock looked up at Sebastian for the first time, keeping his book open on his lap. "You are Sebastian Wilkes..."

"Well obviously, I have introduced myself to enough people, you have probably over heard."Sebastian said.

"No actually this is the first time I have seen you or heard you say anything. I looked at the engraving in the centre of your watch face. 'To Sebastian, love Mother and Father." And how did I get your surname? Well the books you placed on the desk over there early are for an accounting course. Only a few days ago there was a notice on the notice board, for the accounting course students to see, Mr Hartland, the lecturer, there was only one person called Sebastian on that list. So you must be Sebastian Wilkes."

Sherlock paused for a moment, Sebastian just sat there rather stunned, they boys on the other side of the room, were watching as well, their jaws slowly dropping open. Seeing this Sherlock smiled and continued.

"You are the son of a very successful accountant. His name appears in the paper every now and then. You don't want to be doing the accounting course, your father made you do it..." Sebastian looked as if he wanted to protest by Sherlock cut him off. "Don't tell me he didn't. The state of your books, they look like they are brand new, yet any other student on that course their books; the pages are ruffled, the spines bent, where they have used them for references after references, those boys actually care about the course. You on the other hand don't. Hence why you are not making an effort, do you see any other accounting students here right now?"

Sherlock paused for a fraction of a second, "No. You do not; they are all studying hard for the exam tomorrow."

Sebastian lowered his head, slightly embarrassed.

"So I now know your name, the course your taking, some things parents and how you don't want to be here. Hmm. In your eyes that can't be enough information. So let's continue. Well obviously your family have money, which is obvious from the fact that you are here in this dorm and your clothes and watch. They don't come cheap. I know let's get into the finer details about yourself. You're right handed, at home you have 2 dogs, cocker spaniels, probably, there is hair still on your clothes; animal hair is rather tricky to get off. You smoke..." Sebastian gulped slightly, "And from your reaction no knows you smoke, well probably just your parents don't know, because I assume that your cronies over there smoke with you." Sherlock looked over at the group for a second then turned back to look at Sebastian."Just as I thought. Shall I continue? Or do you want me to stop?"

Sebastian just nodded, before choking out "Please, stop."

Sherlock smiled and rose from his chair, holding his page in his book with his thumb. "Good, no if you don't mind, I am going to take me leave." Sherlock said before walking out of the room.

Sebastian and the group of boys on the far side of the room sat in shock for a few minutes before Sebastian looked toward the group. "So who was he exactly?"

The boys snapped out of their state of shock, and one decided to answer Sebastian. "He is Sherlock Holmes, comes from a rich family. Bit of a freak really, can tell anything about you just by looking at you. You haven't witnessed his observations the first thing in the morning. He can tell who had sex the previous night and what makes it worse is he can tell with whom!"

Sebastian looked back to the chair that Sherlock had occupied. And sat thinking about what he had said, and how easily he had seen all of those things. But quickly the whole ordeal slipped from Sebastian's mind.

Sherlock tried to keep himself busy with his school work but soon the work wasn't enough, his brain wasn't busy enough. Soon he tried to find ways to stimulate his mind; first he turned to cigarettes. The nicotine helped slightly but it wasn't enough.

He needed something stronger. But that is what led him to where all the kids that take drugs gathered. Teenagers that were stoned, high and drunk filled the corridor, Sherlock weaved through them. Some of them looked up at him as he passed. He came to the end of the hallway, where a rather tall boy stood, slumped against a wall. "What are you doing posh boy?" He asked his words slurring. Sherlock looked closely at him, his pupils dilated and slightly glazed, he was high on drugs.

"I acquire your services." Sherlock said, looking at the youth.

"What do you want? Weed? Coke? What do you want?" The boy asked.

"The strongest that you have got." Sherlock said, remaining strong, no sign of nerves.

"Coke it is then." The lad said, pulling a small bag filled with white powder. And holding it out to Sherlock.

Sherlock grabbed the small bag, weighing it in his hand. "How much?"

**A.N:**

**Hi, yeah sorry people for the long gap between the chapters! Rushing to get the last few bits of my summer school work before school starts again... :3 But here we go... And a little thing for those who dont like James... Hopefuly the next chapter you will like in someways ;) So you know the drill... Please read and review! :D OH AND THANK YOU FOR ALL THE FAVOURITES AND FOLLOWS ETC! I send virtual hugs to you all! **


	10. He will take no more

**A.N: WARNING DRUG USE! (AND THERE WILL BE DRUG USE (WELL REFERENCES) QUITE A LOT IN THE FOR SEE-ABLE FUTURE IN THIS STORY!) (Sorry! :() And some not soo nice language! :( Sorry! **

**Sherlock is still 18 and Mycroft is still 21! :D**

The first full term at University flew by for Sherlock. He had a new way of keeping his brain stimulated. His supply of drugs was good; his dealer never let him down. He was never bored; he kept his doses low so he still had his main and vital senses intact.

At first he only took powdered cocaine, but as time progressed, Sherlock realised that the powder was effecting the cartilage in his nose, so moved on to injecting it, as long as he didn't use the same place to inject it all regularly there would be no problems, or damage to his body.

But once again Christmas was looming, soon Sherlock would go home for the Christmas period. He didn't want to but he wasn't allowed to stay in the dorm over the Christmas period, his mother had requested that he was allowed home.

He was dreading it, the fact that James and Mycroft would be there, filled his heart with dread. But the time soon came; the car arrived on campus to take him home. To take him to the place he grew up, but also the place that had caused him so much pain and suffering.

He arrived back home in the early evening, five days before Christmas day. The car pulled up in the front of the house. Amelia pulled open the door and ran out to her youngest son, as he pulled his bag from the car's boot.

"Sherly! Welcome home darling and a very Merry Christmas." She said as she embraced her son.

"Merry Christmas, Mummy." Sherlock mumbled.

Amelia stood on her tiptoes and kissed Sherlock on the cheek. "Come on Sherly, come inside." Amelia said as snow began to fall.

The pair walked inside, Sherlock excused himself to take his bag upstairs into his room.

Sherlock entered his room, shutting and locking the door behind him, removing the key, ensuring no one could enter his room. He walked forwards chucking his bag onto his bed.

Sherlock slumped down beside it. He laid down, placing his hands behind his head. Closing his eyes, he thought for a moment.

But as soon as he shut them his mind was filled with horrid images, the nightmare that was the younger years of his life; the memories flying through his mind, tormenting him. Just as quickly as he had shut them, his eyes flew open again. He couldn't do this, two weeks in this place; having to act like there was nothing wrong for Amelia's sake, having to cope with James' harsh words and violent actions. And Mycroft, being the perfect son that he had always been, boasting about his rather high position in the British Government, that he had acquired with in a few months, because he managed to save some top-secret research from being leaked and how he saved the Prime Minister by "accident".

Sherlock had sworn to himself that he would use drugs in the house; he couldn't take them in front of Mummy. But he already knew he would barely last the next two days, let alone the next two weeks. No he couldn't last without them, without their feeling of escape, no not here.

Sherlock knew he would eventually need them.

Without them he would tear himself apart.

* * *

By the 23rd of December Sherlock could take no more.

He needed the drugs.

Over the last three days, he had tried to deal with the fake niceties of family life. But beneath it all James, Mycroft and Sherlock knew the truth. The niceties were all fake.

The falseness of it all is what had led Sherlock up to his room. The door locked, Sherlock sitting on his bed plunging a needle into his arm, and plunging the drugs into his veins, into his system. Within minutes the rush had kicked in. But it was a lot more extreme than normal.

What normal felt like a tiny spark in the back of his brain, now felt like his brain had been tasered, with 40,000 volts surging through it.

The room swirled before his eyes. Sherlock had gone too far, taken too much. Once Sherlock had put the needle and the rest of the evidence away of his doing away, Sherlock laid on his bed a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to compose himself just slightly. So it wasn't obvious that he wasn't his usual self. Compose himself enough so it wasn't obvious that he was high.

There was a slight knock at his door, and Mycroft's voice came through the wood. "Sherlock? Sherlock are you okay in there?"

Sherlock laid on his bed, the world still a strange place in his eyes. "Goooo awaay Mycrofttt!" Sherlock slurred. Sherlock shook his head trying to sort out his words. "I am fine Mycroft! Okay? So just go away!"

Mycroft tried to open the door, but the door just strained against the lock. "Sherlock! Open the door!" Mycroft pushed against the door once again. "Sherlock open this door now! Sherlock what is wrong? Sherlock just open the door now!"

"Mycroft! I said go away!" Sherlock roared. The cocaine had given Sherlock confidence, he felt so much better, than he had earlier that day.

"Sherlock if you don't open the door now, I will go and get someone to kick this door down!" Mycroft said, raising his voice through the door.

"I said go away Mycroft! Leave me alone! Do I have to spell it out! L. E. A. V. E. M. E. A. L. O. N. E.!" Sherlock said, starting to get really anger with Mycroft.

Mycroft back away from the door, turned away from the door and headed down the stairs to the lounge. Where James and Amelia sat awaiting for Sherlock's arrival back in the lounge, so that they could let dinner be served.

"Crofty, darling, where is Sherly?" Amelia said as soon as she saw Mycroft entering the room alone.

"In his room, he has locked himself in. And he isn't coming out." Mycroft said, as stood still for a moment, leaning on his umbrella.

James looked at Mycroft; for once he didn't have a drink in his hand. After being diagnosed with atherosclerosis, as a result of high blood pressure, James was prone to heart attacks. So James had to watch his diet and alcohol intake. As well as avoiding strenuous activities.

"My, I will go sort Sherlock out. You two go and tell the cooks to serve dinner in about 10 minutes. I'll have Sherlock down by then." James said smiling at Mycroft and Amelia.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow slightly, knowing what was truly going on, made him worried. ""I will go with Mummy to tell the kitchen staff then I will be up in about 5 minutes okay? Just in case you need any assistance." Mycroft said, forcing himself to smile at James.

Mycroft went with Amelia towards the kitchen.

James rose from the sofa and headed up the stairs towards Sherlock's room. But on the way he stopped by his office grabbing a key. The houses skeleton key, the key that would open any door in the house.

* * *

Sherlock still laid on his bed in his room, the key to his door laying on his beside table. The drugs still having a large effect on him. All his senses had been enhanced.

Sherlock heard a key begin to turn in his door's lock. He sat up, and headed to towards the door, as James walked through the door.

"So you're having a tantrum like a 5-year-old." James sneered looking at Sherlock. Sherlock looked at James, for once he didn't feel like a coward, he didn't feel scared of the man who beat him, called him names. The first and last push to being where he was now.

"What have you being doing in here you little brat?" James asked looking around the room.

"I am not scared of you anymore." Sherlock blurted out.

"What?!" James said, stopping for a moment, looking towards Sherlock. Despite the fact that Sherlock was taller than James, James still felt that he ruled over Sherlock.

"I said _I am not scared of you anymore. _Because I am not scared of you! You can't scare me anymore. I have dealt with how you have treated me for years! And you will not be able to do that anymore! I wont allow it." Sherlock said, approaching James. Full of confidence.

James anger built up inside of him, how dare Sherlock speak to him that way. James was Sherlock's elder, he deserved respect. "How dare you speak to me like that!" James roared. Raising his hand towards Sherlock.

But Sherlock stopped him, and grabbed James' hand, bending it slightly, pushing James towards the nearest wall. Sherlock grabbed James collar, pushing him against the wall. "How dare I? How dare _I_!? I have not done anything to you! I tried to get along with you! I wanted you to be my Dad! But _you_ were the one who pushed me away! Abused me!" Sherlock said, tears starting to form in his eyes.

"But what does that matter now?! It doesn't because, you are now in the same position I have been in so many times." Sherlock said, as he raised his fist, ready to let 11 years worth of anger out. His fist beginning to get closer to James.

"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft yelled, standing a few feet away from the pair, his hand reaching out. Sherlock paused. "Sherlock stop it now! Let James go. Don't lower yourself to his level."

Sherlock stopped and let go of James who fell to the floor clutching his took a few steps back. He came back round to his senses for a moment, the drugs had taken over, changed him too much. Taken him too far. James sat on the floor and looked up at Sherlock.

Staring at the broken 18-year-old, James began to laugh.

Sherlock snapped again, still fueled by drugs, he lunged towards James. Mycroft ran over to Sherlock and pulled him back. He managed to grab hold of Sherlock just before he reached James.

"Sherlock calm down now!" Mycroft said, using all his force to hold his brother back. Mycroft pulled him over to the far side of the room, shoving him against the wall. Looking at Sherlock, Mycroft noticed his dilated pupils. "Sherlock what have you taken?"

Sherlock stilled tried to get away. Mycroft shook his brother's shoulders slightly, Sherlock looked at Mycroft, and smiled slightly in his drugged state. "Let me at him Crofty!" Sherlock said trying to barge past Mycroft. Mycroft just shoved Sherlock back.

"Sherlock! Tell me, What have you taken!?" Mycroft yelled.

Sherlock just shrugged. Mycroft looked behind him towards James, and worried at the sight he saw. James was laying on the floor unconscious, his hands laying above his chest. As far as Mycroft could see, James wasn't breathing either. Mycroft went over to check if he was okay, but as soon as he had confirmed James wasn't breathing Sherlock had come over, still wanting revenge. Mycroft pulled Sherlock away again, "Sherlock stop this now! I need to help James he isn't breathing and if I don't help him, he will die!" Mycroft yelled, trying to get his brother to come to his senses.

"Good. The world would be a better place without him!" Sherlock spat.

Mycroft couldn't do this; hold Sherlock back and help James. "Mother! Help me! Hurry!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

As soon as Mycroft heard his mother climbing the stairs. Mycroft let go of Sherlock and ran over to James, and immediately started performing CPR.

Amelia stood in the door way for a second, tears streaming down her face as she saw Mycroft performing CPR on James. "My...croft.." Amelia choked out. She looked around the room and found Sherlock slumped against a wall, on the far side of the room, with a grin from ear to ear.

"Mother take Sherlock out of here and call an ambulance! Quickly!" Mycroft said, as he kept on with the CPR.

"Sherlock, come with me please, darling." Amelia said reaching out to her son. Sherlock looked up at his mother, and saw the amount of sadness that filled her face. Knowing how upset she was Sherlock got up walked across the room, grabbing his mother's hand. Then followed her out the room, refusing to let his mother's hand go.

While Amelia phoned an ambulance, Mycroft continued with the CPR, refusing to stop, refusing to let himself fail. He didn't want to have that feeling of failure.

* * *

The ambulance arrived 7 minutes after Mycroft had started CPR. But as soon as they arrived and found out that CPR had been performed for over 5 minutes with no response what so ever, the paramedics pronounced James dead.

Amelia broke down when they told her, Sherlock sat in the corner of his room in silence, not quiet sure what to do. Mycroft lead his mother to the ambulance where they sedated her to calm her down. While the private ambulance took James' body away.

Mycroft went back up to Sherlock's room, to find Sherlock on the bed plunging another into his arm. "Sherlock! What are you doing!?" Mycroft yelled, storming across the room, grabbing the needle off Sherlock. "Sherlock what is this?" Mycroft asked looking at the needle.

"Coke." Sherlock smiled.

Mycroft paced back and forth across the room for a few moments before, leaving the room to make a phone call.

"Hello." Mycroft said as the person on the other end of the phone picked up. "Hello, this is Mycroft Holmes... Yes... Well, I need a car at the house... No it is not for me... I need it to take my brother to the nearest rehabilitation centre... Could you also warn them of his arrival, I need to go to comfort my mother... Yes I will see him off... Sherlock, yes... Thank you.. Goodbye."

**A.N: Sorry about the Spelling out of 'Leave me alone' and having to put a full stop afterwards, it was the only way it would work... So my apologies. Yes I do apologise for my grammar in this chapter, I wanted to try to get a chapter up for each of my stories that are on the go, before the end of the day, so haven't had time to check it (But my Beta will hopefully check it A.S.A.P for me so I can change mistakes) ... But I don't think I will be able to do the other story (So any followers of "A Weeks Stay With Mycroft" I am sorry! I will make sure that is the next story I update when I have time!) So I sorry if I don't update for a while, starting 6th Form... and unfortunately school work comes first! :( **

**But anyway back to the chapter. So yeah... umm... What did you think? Please leave a review! :D **

**And Thank you for all your support and follows and reviews! I LOVE YOU ALL! xD **


	11. Drug Houses

**WARNING! DRUG USE AGAIN! (Don't think there shoudl be anymore after this chapter!) **

Although he was only 23, Mycroft held on of the highest positions in the British Government. A position that was even higher than the British Prime Minster himself.

For the two years, ever since that night when James passed away, Mycroft cut himself off from the rest of the world. All that mattered now what now was his job, and looking after Mummy. And his top priority was making sure both him and Amelia didn't lose Sherlock.

Mycroft didn't tell Amelia that Sherlock was the main reason James went into cardiac arrest, and he also didn't tell her that Sherlock also tried to go for James, even when Mycroft was trying to keep James alive. So as far as Amelia was concerned James death was an accident, he went into cardiac arrest, and Sherlock had gotten distraught over the whole thing and that Mycroft tried his hardest to save James.

Mycroft had put Sherlock straight into rehab. But after a week of being in there and going through some much counselling, that Sherlock felt he didn't need. Sherlock made a run for it, and found the nearest drug dealer he could. It wasn't hard to find a dealer; Sherlock found a group of homeless people until he found someone that could direct him to a dealer. Mycroft found him again, using his power in the Government to pull all the string he could to find Sherlock and put him back in rehab.

This happened again and again, the same routine happening for the last 18 months. Sherlock breaking out and finding a dealer; bringing him back to square one.

Every time Mycroft heard that Sherlock has made a run for it, he would break down inside a little more. No matter how much he tried Sherlock didn't understand that Mycroft was on his side.

Not long after the two-year mark, Mycroft was about to go and make his monthly visit to Sherlock. He arrived at the rehabilitation centre, only to find that Sherlock had gone again.

"Ah, Mr Holmes, I am sorry to tell you that, your brother has gone, once again. We have looked around the immediate grounds but have found no sign of him. We were just about to make the call to tell you when you walked through the door."

"What again?" Mycroft sighed, tapping his ever faithful umbrella against his leg. That made it the 3rd time that month Sherlock had run off. "Leave it to me I will find him." Mycroft said before turning on his heel and leaving through the door he had walked through only minutes before.  
He got straight back into the car and nodded to the driver. "He has done a runner again. You know the drill."

That was all Mycroft said.

But the driver knew exactly what Mycroft meant. Whenever Sherlock broke out of rehab, they would go to the nearest homeless gathering. Mycroft would then use the whispers that happened between the homeless groups to find where Sherlock was heading. Normally they would find Sherlock in about half an hour. But that day was different, both Mycroft and the driver knew it. Something in the air felt wrong.

* * *

Sherlock walked through the groups of homeless people, he looked for regular informants. Some of the people lifted their heads up from the fire they were bent over, and looked at Sherlock.

To most of them Sherlock was not unknown. He came regularly; they all knew what he wanted.

Sherlock passed person after person. At last he spotted someone he knew would know where the best place to go was.

"Brett. There you are. Where can I go for drugs?" Sherlock asked, getting straight to the point, not wanting to hang around for too long. Glancing at his watch, it had been nearly 45 minutes since he had left, by now Mycroft would know that he was missing and he would now be on Sherlock's tail.

Brett stopped and thought for a moment, looking into the space beside Sherlock's head. "Well there is Jack?" Sherlock shook his head.  
"Can't go to Jack, my brother knows where his territory is." Sherlock said.

Brett thought for a few seconds more. "Well there is a new place. A drug house really, not that far from here actually. It is run by someone under the pseudonym 'Iceman'. Is that a little better?" Sherlock nodded, a new place meant Mycroft would take a lot longer than normal to find him.

"Thanks Brett. "Sherlock said, handing his informant a twenty pound note.

Brett took the money pocketing the money somewhere safe. Sherlock got instructions from Brett to the place. Storing the directions into his mind palace, Sherlock turned to leave.

Brett stopped him for one moment more. "Sherlock." Sherlock turned. "This Iceman guy, he only serves those who are in the money. So I thought I would just warn you before you got there..."

Sherlock bowed his head slightly as a gesture of thanks, "I will be fine. But thank you for the warning Brett."

Then Sherlock just turned and left, leaving Brett to get back to his conversation.

* * *

Mycroft reached Vauxhall Arches about an hour after Sherlock had left the rehibilitation centre. All of the people that were there knew he he was, as he walked through the crowds.

Many nodded their heads in respect, others just stared as Mycroft walked passed. None of them stood out to Mycroft, he couldn't quite tell who had spoke to Sherlock, if any of them had. Normally it was easy to tell, they avoided Mycroft's gaze, kept their heads down. But today was different, who ever Sherlock had spoke to for information was brave, they had more guts than the rest. Whoever they were could keep Mycrofts gaze and not seeem afraid.

Mycroft scanned the groups of people and looked for anyclues that would tell him who he would need to talk to. At first he looked to the floor, but the tracks in the dust just showed the normal footprints, none stood as out as Sherlock's.

So the next step was to look at everyone's body language, see if anyone was being watched by a lot of through the crowds Mycroft watched people's faces. Several people kept looking toward one person, a man, late 30's to early 40's, dark brown hair with bright green eyes, deep purple circles sat beneath his eyes. Mycroft recognised this man. Brett, Mycroft recalled was his name, Sherlock had used him for information before.

Mycroft straightened his back, tapped his umbrella against the floor once before heading towards Brett.  
The other people who surounded Brett moved away, joining other groups of people, leaving Brett standing alone.  
"Good afternoon Brett." Mycroft said, standing a few feet away from Brett.

"Mr Holmes." Brett replied, without looking at Mycroft.

"Where has he gone Brett?" Mycroft asked knowing he had found his man.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Mr Holmes." Brett said, glancing up at Mycroft for a second, before lowering his head again.

Mycroft sighed, "Sherlock. Where is he?"

Brett looked up and smiled, "I thought you had him under lock and key. I havent seen him."

Mycroft's face darkened slightly, "Come on Brett, I know he was here, I can make it worth your while."  
Some of the other people started to watch, they knew what usually happened, this was were everyone else cracked. When Mycroft said he would make it worth their while he didn't lie. Anyone that told him ended up eating well for the following fortnight.

Brett smiled at Mycroft mulling the offer over. After a few minutes a small chuckle escaped from Brett's mouth, "Even if I had seen Sherlock, Mr Holmes, I would not take your filth bribe. So good day." Brett said smiling, before lowering his head again.

Mycroft stood in shock for a moment, never had anyone refused to tell him where Sherlock was.  
Once he regained his composure Mycroft straightened his suit, then turned to leave.

The groups of people went back to what they were doing. Ignoring Mycroft as he walked past.

Mycroft turned the corner and saw his car 100 foot ahead of him. As he walked some gravel fell by his feet. Mycroft turned to see a girl in her late teens. She gestured for Mycroft to come towards her. Mycroft looked around, checking that there was no one around. The girl obviously didn't want to be seen talking to Mycroft.  
He walked over to her. "Mr Holmes is it?" She asked as he stopped infront of her.

Mycroft nodded. "Yes. May I ask what is the matter?"

"I have information about where your brother has gone." She said, looking around, checking to see if anyone was nearby.

Mycroft gave a slight sigh of relief. "Thank you. Please do tell me."

The girl smiled, "I over heard your brother talking to Brett early. Brett told him about a guy that runs a drug house not far from here. I know where it is. I can give you the address, so you can go and get your brother." She said, passing Mycroft a piece of paper.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Mycroft said, placing the piece of paper into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He then reached into another pocket. "Here, this is for your troubles." Mycroft said, pulling a small wad of money from his pocket, and putting it towards the girl.

The girl just put her hand up, shaking her head. "I didn't do this for the money."

Mycroft stopped slightly confused. "If you didn't do it for the money then why do it?" Mycroft asked.

"I saw the desperation to find him in your eyes. And I lost someone to drug abuse. I know how hard it is, I didn't think you should have to go through that."

Mycroft understood, "I thank you again." Mycroft said, his voice filled with gratitude.

The girl smiled, "I wish you well." she said tears starting to form in her eyes, before pulling Mycroft into a hug.  
Mycroft stood startled for amount, before patting the girl on the back, as some form of comfort.

After a few seconds in the awkward embrace the girl pulled away, slightly embarrassed. Mycroft smiled at the girl, thanking her once again, before turning and leaving. He nodded towards the girl as he got into his car. He paused in the door of the car.

"What is your name?" Mycroft asked.

The girl smiled, "Ummm Anthea.." She said giggling slightly.

"I am guessing that is not your real name.." Mycroft said.

"Well done, you guess correctly, and you can also guess that I am not going to tell you my real name either." She chuckled.

Mycroft laughed slightly before getting in to the car. The car drove off, and Mycroft told the driver the address that was scrawled on the piece of paper the girl gave him.

Anthea smiled to herself as the car pulled off. She felt good having helped Mycroft out, she hoped he got to his brother before something bad happened.

She turned away, and made her way back to her acquaintances, stuffing her hands in her pockets to keep them warm as she went. Her hands hit something in her right pocket, she grabbed hold of it and pulled it out.

Anthea shook her head as she saw what sat in her hand. Mycroft must have sneaked the money into her pocket when she hugged him.

She put the money back into her pocket, sighing at Mycroft's stubbornness.

* * *

Sherlock sat in 'Iceman''s drug house. It had cost him a lot to just get through the front door.

He had been given what he wanted, what he needed. Cocaine. The drug seared through his veins as he pressed the plunger of the needle.

The rush came, hitting Sherlock like a train. The rush was intense, it had been too long since he had felt this feeling. It had been over 2 weeks. Sherlock's brain had suffered in silence, at the lack of stimulation the rehabilitation centre provided.

He sat back, leaning against the wall, letting his brain appreciate the stimulation.

But the stimulant was too strong and Sherlock slowly lost conciousness, his last thought before he blacked out was that Mycroft didn't find him.

Not like this.

* * *

Mycroft arrived at the address Anthea had given him. He walked straight up to the door and brought his way in.

As he wondered around the house, stepping of the bodies of drug influenced people, he searched for Sherlock. The ground floor of the house showed no sign of him. But as Mycroft searched around the upstairs rooms, he heard whispers. For some reason these whispers sent a shiver up Mycroft's spine.

He followed the voices and entered a drak room that Mycroft assumed used to be a bedroom. Two figures stood surrounding something, or someone. As Mycroft cleared his throat, the two figures turned and ran out of the room.

When they had left Mycroft saw Sherlock laying on the floor, unconscious. Mycroft ran over. He began tapping Sherlock's cheek, with this Sherlock began to stir. "Sherlock, come on Sherlock. Wake up." Mycroft said, wanting his brother to be okay, and especially so they could get out of the house.

Sherlock's eyes opened, and widened with shock as he recognised his brother's face.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock said shocked.

"Yes. Now let's get you out of here. Can you walk?" Mycroft asked helping Sherlock sit up.

Sherlock nodded, before standing with the aid of his brother. They walked out of the house, Sherlock using Mycroft for support.

As they left the building Mycroft knew that he needed to take more drastic actions with Sherlock. Especially if he wanted Sherlock to stay alive.

**A.N: Right slightly later than I promised, but it is up! :D Yeah this one is rather long... but it does really count to what happens next so... :3 What do you think? And once again you know the drill! Please read and review! :D **


	12. On the road to recovery

That night, Mycroft shipped Sherlock out to Florida and placed him in a high security rehabilitation centre. Sherlock protested but Mycroft used all his connections. To make sure his brother got to the centre and stayed there - this time until he was clean and could be trusted not to relapse. But for the first few months Mycroft's weekly phone calls to the doctors were the same.

"He can't be helped until he accepts his problem. And at this moment in time, he is still in denial. We can try our best but will not work until he works with us."

Mycroft would protest and every time would say that Sherlock would make it through and be out by the end of the year.

* * *

**3 years later...**

Sherlock sat staring out the window that over looked the courtyard. The security guards paced up and down the square. Sherlock felt uneasy in this place and had for the last 3 years. The centre helped many high-profile people through their rehabilitation period. They came and went, easily manipulated by the methods of the doctors and nurses. Sherlock was harder to crack; he had gone through the stages of withdrawal several times, but he hadn't touched any drugs since the night Mycroft shipped him out to Florida.

The doctors and nurses treated him like some lunatic, avoiding him whenever possible. They hated that he could tell everything about them with one glance, so avoiding him seemed the best option. So for the past 3 years Sherlock had sat in the same spot every day, from dawn till dusk, watching the world go by. No friends. No one to talk to. Three years, alone.

One day in the middle of June on the third year, a new volunteer started, she came in everyday to spend time and interact with the patients. Sherlock saw that she was in her late forties, early fifties, quite a small woman, and married (unhappily). She was constantly cheery, her bright British accent filled the room as she spoke, joking with everyone. Her name was Mrs Martha Hudson. After a while Sherlock stopped watching her, and went back to staring out the window.

A few hours into her second day, Martha approached Sherlock, taking the usually empty seat opposite him. "Hello, I am Martha Hudson, how do you do?" She said reaching her hand towards Sherlock.

For a moment Sherlock sat and stared blankly at her hand, but then looking into Martha's smiling face he took her hand shaking it. "Sherlock. Pleased to meet you." Sherlock replied, rather bluntly.

Martha laughed for a moment, "Well between you and me, you're the most polite person in this place. You dont look like you belong here, and you have a British accent, so you're not from around here. So it brings me to ask, why are you here?"

Sherlock smiled at Martha's first comment, then frowned slightly at her second comment, "My brother put me here. I have been here for 2 years, 121 days, 11 hours, 31 minutes and 58 seconds." Martha paused for a moment slightly shocked, but then a smile formed on her face as she laughed slightly.

"Wow a long time then." She chuckled.

Sherlock nodded, "And you're comment about me being British... Well you are British yourself, so I take it you have emigrated out here?"

Martha smiled, "Yes I came out here about 3 years ago with my husband and my son, who is in his early twenties. We still own a home in London, but Arthur, my husband, didn't want to sell it." But as she mentioned her husband's name her face dropped slightly.

Sherlock was unsure of how to react, but discussing Martha's husband obviously upset her, so he placed his hand over hers and smiled slightly, trying to reassure her.

Martha looked up at Sherlock and smiled back, "Thank you m'dear." Her face lightened up as she changed the subject, "You would like my son, he is very much like you in some ways, he is about the same age as you. Very clever he is, my James, I shall introduce you two some time."

Sherlock shook his head smiling, "I doubt we would get along..."

After 3 years in the centre with no one to talk to, the fact that someone talked to Sherlock and seemed to accept who he was made him feel happier. The rest of the world didn't matter, Mrs Hudson cared, and so Sherlock decided he would care for her back.

* * *

A few months after Martha Hudson first spoke to Sherlock, she didn't come in. She had never missed a day off work, she would always come in and spend the afternoon chatting to Sherlock, (well she talked and Sherlock listened). So this made Sherlock suspicious.

Martha didn't come in for three days, and when she returned, she sported a black eye and a swollen lip.

When Sherlock saw this, he demanded to know what happened, although he already had his theories. Martha claimed that she tripped and fell, hitting her head on the dining table. But Sherlock knew this was a lie, he knew that somehow this related back to her husband.

That day the pair sat in silence not talking and only a few hours later Martha got up and left, claiming she was tired. Sherlock got up and hugged Martha as she went to leave, whispering in her ear, "I know what really happened, I am not blind. If this continues I will make sure he goes to jail."  
Martha pulled away and looked slightly shocked, but smiled slightly, "I will be fine, dear, no need to worry about me."

Sherlock shook his head, "No, if this does continue, I meant it." Sherlock was determined, no one would hurt _his_ friend, and no one would hurt _his_ Mrs Martha Hudson.

* * *

Unfortunately over the following weeks, Martha continued to come into work with cuts and bruises. Slowly Sherlock became angrier and angrier. How could someone do that to someone as sweet as her? But despite Sherlock's pleas, Martha refused to tell Sherlock anything about her husband or why he was doing this to her. Sherlock demanded to know who else knew what her husband was doing to her, "Does your son know? Surely he isn't that blind to not notice?"

Martha just shook her head and sighed, "He is a Uni dear, he won't be home for another couple of days. He hasn't been here while Arthur has been having his mood swings."

Sherlock snapped, "That is not the result of a simple mood swing!" Sherlock roared, pointing at her black eye.

"Sherlock! Keep your voice down!" Martha said, patting Sherlock's hand down.

"I am sorry, but _that_ is not the result of a slight mood swing, that is the result of a violent outburst from a man who has no control over his anger." Sherlock said at a lower volume.

At that point a man in his mid-fifties dressed in a police uniform, he stood in the door way for a moment looking around the room until he spotted Martha and Sherlock sitting by the window. Once he had spotted them he slowly made his way through the room towards them. Martha looked up and saw him, before looking over at Sherlock with a look of concern painted across her face.

When Sherlock saw this look it clicked in his head, this was Arthur, Martha's husband.

Sherlock fidgeted in his chair, ready to get up, and tell Arthur exactly what he thought of him. But Martha looked at Sherlock and shook her head slightly, pleading with Sherlock not to say anything, from the look in her eyes.

Arthur came over and kissed his wife on the cheek, before looking at her with a worried gaze. "Martha, I think it is time for you to come home, something has happened and it's best if you come back."

Sherlock's eyes darted over Arthur, taking in little detail, deducing as much as he could.

_Very little mud on his shoes, a__ muddy footprint mark on the shin of his right trouser leg... His clothes all crumpled and messed up, flakes of skin midway up his sleeves_...

Martha shook her head, "I have work Arthur, I can't just leave now."

_A_ _nervous twitch on his right side... _

Arthur shook his head pulling at his wife's arm, "No we need to go now, something has happened at the house..."

_Jumping at the slightest sound..._

"What has happened Arthur, tell me what has happened and if I really need to go I will come with you, otherwise I am remaining where I am."

_A slight bruise forming over his right eye..._

"Martha, you need to come with now.." _Desperation, and slight anger in his voice, a slightly defensive stance..._

_"_Tell me what is going on Arthur."

_Blood under his finger nails..._

"It is James... He came down early to surprise us... But I got a phone call from one of the neighbours, they heard a struggle inside the house, then they went inside and found James lying in the kitchen with blood everywhere, he was stabbed and he didn't make it... Someone must have found him in there when they broke in and James must have tried to stand up to them..."

_Blood splatters up his sleeve, which have tried to been washed off, recently..._

Martha froze, her son was dead, killed by some murderous animal, known as man. Sherlock grabbed Martha's hand in comfort and looked up at Arthur, "Where were you when this happened?"

Arthur looked at Sherlock with confusion, "I have been in the office at work all morning."

"Okay... Excuse me a moment..." Sherlock pulled Martha to the side, quickly pulling out his phone and sending a text.

"He is lying. He hasn't been to work this morning, there is very little mud on his shoes considering that it rained last night, and the local police station happens to a have a very muddy car park. There is blood under his nails and up his shirt sleeve, a bruise forming over his right eye where someone has tried to fight back, your son wasn't killed by some stranger who broke into your house... He was killed by you husband, Arthur must have lost his temper when your son turned up at the house unannounced, he probably went to hit him, like he has been doing with you, but James fought back. This most likely made Arthur angrier, and that resulted in your son, lying on the kitchen floor dead."

Sherlock paused for a moment before continuing, "I beg you, don't go with him. A man who has just killed his own son would be trying to do one of two things at this precise moment. One; he will make a run for it, taking you with him so it looks like you decided to move, due to the grief caused by your son's death. Two; the guilt will build up, resulting in him committing suicide and most likely he will kill you at the same moment, 'wanting the family to be whole again'. Personally looking at him I think he is thinking about the second option."

Martha teared up, shaking her head. "No, he could have..."

Sherlock held her hand, "When have I ever been wrong about anything, over the months you have known me?"

"Never..." Martha mumbled.

"Exactly. Your husband killed your son and I am not going to let him hurt you. I have already sent for the police, they should be here soon. Just until then I need you to look like you are in deep conversation with me, just until they get here." Sherlock begged.

Martha nodded, tears streaming down her face, "Why would he do this Sherlock? Our own son."

Sherlock looked at Martha, "The same reason he hits you everyday, because he has a violent tendency and violent nature. He is not safe to be around right now, or ever to be entirely truthful. It is like he has a switch, and that switch can be triggered by the slightest thing. He is not safe to be around, I need to get you out of here and without him noticing, we know what he has done."

Sherlock looked at his phone which flashed with a reply to the text he had sent.

_Police are 3 minutes away. I am a minute behind them, and I want an explanation for all of this when I arrive._

Sherlock closed the message, silently cursing the delay of the police. "The police are still at least three minutes away,you can not leave here with him. Tell him you need to the reception staff that you have to go and may not be back for a while, drag it out as long as possible. I will talk to him to make sure he is as far away from you as possible when the police arrive. Do you understand?" Sherlock asked concerned, Martha stood in front of him, she had a blank expression, the news had obviously shocked her.

Sherlock tried to snap her out of it, "Martha? I need you to act as normal as possible, if he suspects anything he will make a run for it. And if he isn't arrested today, I know he will come back for you, and this time you won't just have a black eye and a swollen lip. So please, snap out of it!"

Martha came to her senses, her face gaining composure. "Okay, so what do I need to do?"

**A.N: First things first;... I AM SOOO SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY! School is crazy! I have had literally no time to write... Christmas was not much better, it was full of me revising! But I have finally got this chapter finished and I am getting straight on with the next one so hopefully I should have it up by the weekend! Second; Thank you all so much for you support with this story, I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy! I made it slightly longer chapter to make up for the delay!** **Oh and about Mrs Hudson's first name... I looked for it and didn't succeed, but I think Martha suits her! So anyway let me know what you think! Right better get on with what happens next! **


	13. Lock him up and throw away the key

"Okay, so what do I need to do?"

"I need you to tell Arthur, you need to talk to your boss and that you want him to wait here. Say that it will take a few minutes, then go and talk to the first member of staff you find. When the police arrive act surprised. I don't want him lashing out at you, so from now on you are clueless about the police's imminent arrival." Sherlock explained.

Martha nodded, and then walked away from Sherlock, telling her husband exactly what Sherlock had told her to say. Martha walked off and followed Sherlock's instructions and began talking to the first member of staff she came across.

Sherlock was left standing with Arthur. "So you're a resident here?" Arthur asked, trying to make a conversation. Sherlock just nodded in response not wanting to reply in words, knowing if he did Sherlock would tell him exactly what he thought of him and his actions.

Arthur shrugged at this response, "That's nice. They seem to treat you nicely here, especially with my Martha working here. And it doesn't look like a normal institutionalisation, just looks like a posh home."

Sherlock couldn't hold his anger in much longer, "One; this is not a psychological institute, it is a rehabilitation centre. Two; I am not psychotic, which you are assuming I am. Three; if anyone deserves to be locked up in here it would be yo-.." Sherlock cut off realising what he was saying.

Arthur snapped slightly, "What did you just say?" Arthur approached Sherlock his hands starting to form fists.

Sherlock could hear the police cars pulling up in the drive way below. Needing to keep Arthur in the building Sherlock decided to distract him. "I said the only person who deserves to be in here if it was a psychological hospital, would be you. Because you are a psychotic, foul, violent criminal, who deserves to be locked up for all eternity or even better, needs to be executed."

"Who do you think you are?!" Arthur roared, fists raised as he approached Sherlock. His fist went to slam into Sherlock, but Sherlock grabbed his wrist. Arthur struggled against Sherlock's grip as the police entered the room, puzzled to see one of their colleagues being stopped by Sherlock.

"I am Sherlock Holmes, and Officers over here." Sherlock yelled. Arthur looked at Sherlock puzzled.

"What are you doing?" Arthur questioned.

"I know what actually happened; you killed your own son and you have been abusing your wife. You are a sick and vile human being, who deserves every piece of justice you get. And you shall not hurt another soul..." Sherlock said looking into Arthur's eyes, knowing that every word hit a nerve, every word like a dagger of truth through the heart. And Arthur's reaction was just more solid proof that Sherlock was right.

"How do you-" Arthur hissed.

"I know everything about you and your actions just by looking at you. And it makes me sick." Sherlock replied.

The police had reached them, and stood still, confused at what was going on between the pair that stood in front of them. "Arthur, what is going on?" One of the officers asked looking towards his colleague.

Arthur went to answer but Sherlock cut him off, letting go of Arthur's hand. "Gentlemen, this man need to be arrested for the murder of his son, James Hudson and for the domestic abuse of his wife, Martha Hudson."

The group of police officers hesitated, unsure what to think of Sherlock's accusations against their colleague. But a voice from just outside the room, made the decision of what to do for them, "Gentlemen, you have just been given and murder and a suspect of that murder. If I was you I would take action because, an escaped murderer looks good on anyones record."

The police officers looked at Sherlock for a moment, before carrying out Arthur's arrest like the voice had said. As he was arrested Arthur's gaze never left Sherlock, he mumbled something too low for even Sherlock to hear. Once in the restriction of handcuffs, Arthur was led out, just as Martha re-entered the room, "Martha! Tell them! Tell them they have it wrong, tell them I haven't hurt you! Tell them! Please, help me!" Arthur begged. Martha turned her back on her husband, knowing she couldn't say what he wanted her to say knowing full well, that if she did she would be lying. Arthur's anger snapped when her saw her turn away from him, "How dare you Martha! How dare you tell him! How dare you, you little snake! When I get out you will regret it, I mean it you will regret it!"

Martha was extremely hurt by what the man she loved and cared for, was threatening her once more. This was hurting her more than every time he had hit her, leaving a mark on her. Sherlock saw the look of pain on her face and gestured for Martha to come over. Once she reached him, he pulled her into her arms and let her sob in his arms, " I am so sorry Martha, I will make sure he gets the death penalty for what he has done to you and James. He will not harm another hair on your head I swear it."

The voice that they had heard early began to speak again the figure it belonged to walking around the corner, "How sentimental, I haven't seen you care about someone for a very long time Sherlock." The voice became more familiar, as the figure walked around the corner and entered the room, Sherlock started to recognise who the voice belonged to.

"Hello, Mycroft." Sherlock said looking towards his brother, who stood leaning on his ever present umbrella.

"What is this all about Sherlock, I want a good reason why I had to pull my strings here in America to get half the police force here." Mycroft demanded. No hello or how are you, even though he had not seen his brother in three years.

"As you already know the man who has been arrested for murder. He was going to leave here with his wife and kill her too from what I could deduce. And i couldn't let that happen." Sherlock said.

"And how are you going to convince a judge and jury of this fact, Sherlock? Especially when you have been in here for three years. They will not believe a word you say." Mycroft stated, observing the end of his umbrella.

"I shall enlighten you of a certain fact Mycroft! I have been clean for three years! But I cannot leave this place because you have made it that you have to approve my requests to leave. And you haven't been here, until now. Were you actually planning to visit me on your trip to America? Or are you so ashamed of me that I don't even exist as far as you are concerned anymore? And you are going to leave me here to rot?!"

"Sherlock I-" Mycroft started.

"No Mycroft. Don't. Don't give me your excuses. You and I both know the truth, ever since "Daddy Dear" died, you have blamed and disowned me. Hence why you stuck me here in this place. As far away from you as possible, far away for the prying eyes of your precious peers in the Government, too ashamed of me." Sherlock interrupted.

"Sherlock, please let me explain-" Mycroft tried again.

"Fine, Mycroft explain to me, please do. But let me tell you this, I want out of here. My ability to deduce that Arthur had murder his son, should prove to you that I am clean and my mind is clear. Once you promise me that I can leave, then you can explain. Until then I don't want to hear a single word." Sherlock said, staring down his brother.

"Once they prove that Arthur di commit the murder of his son, with _solid_ evidence. Then I will let you return home, you have my word. But-" Mycroft said.

"Well until then I don't want to hear from you" Sherlock interrupted once again, ignoring his brother and turning his focus back to the traumatised Martha.

Mycroft took his brother's body language as a sign to leave. "See you soon Sherly."

Sherlock flinched at the sound of his childhood nickname. "Don't call me that, you have no right to." Sherlock snapped. Mycroft ignored Sherlock's protests and left the room, leaving Sherlock alone to comfort Martha.

**A.N;**

**Ok this isn't quite all that I wanted in this chapter but I think Arthur's conviction may need a whole chapter to it's self so. I give you the end bit of the last chapter. I am trying to work out how to write the conviction and everything so it may take a while.. So sorry for that in advance! Anyway thank you for all your support and reviews! *Internet Hugs!***


	14. The verdict

**One year later...**

Sherlock sat in his chair in the center, staring out the window, waiting to receive the verdict of Arthur's trial.

After Arthur had been arrested, the police found no solid evidence to prove that Arthur had committed the murder. With very little evidence to go on, they had a very limited time to be able to hold Arthur in prison. So the investigation team had to work fast.

Martha had given a statement against her husband, telling them about his violent nature and how he had been physically violent towards her. This gave the police something more than a few spots of blood to hold Arthur on, even if they couldn't gather enough evidence to charge him with murder, they police would be able to put him away for a domestic violence.

But for Sherlock that wasn't enough, a year in prison wasn't a long enough sentence or the right one for that matter. He pushed his brother into causing a full and thorough investigation.

Mycroft had complied with his brother's requests. Although Mycroft may have not visited his brother in the years since he put his brother in the center. Mycroft was still hoping that Sherlock was right with this murder case, because if he was it meant that Mycroft was finally getting his baby brother back.

He wouldn't have him back fully though, Sherlock would not ever be the smiling, happy boy who Mycroft had once played "pirates" with. But it meant that Sherlock was clean of the drugs and his brilliant mind was clear once again.

To begin with the investigation team couldn't find anything... Just the blood on Arthur's sleeves put him at the scene of the crime.

Once the body was checked over in detail and a postmortem was carried out, that is when evidence was uncovered.

Arthur's DNA in the form of skin flakes and blood traces were found under James' nails, and also blood traces were found on James' knuckles. These coincided with scratch marks on Arthur's shoulders and the swelling black eye that was slowly forming.

This evidence allowed the police to detain Arthur for a longer period of time.

A few days after the arrest, the team found the murder weapon. It was a kitchen knife, a missing piece from the set that the Hudson family owned. The knife was analyzed; it was covered in James' blood which someone had tried to wash off with bleach. Finger prints covered the handle and the base of the blade; these belonged to Arthur, as well as the finger prints that were found on the bleach bottle and the sink.

Normally this would have meant very little. A man's finger prints on objects that he owned in his own home, how did that make him a murderer?

But when this was put alongside Martha's statement about Arthur's usual behaviour, cleaning and cooking were not on the list. With the evidence coming together the police were starting to be able to build a strong enough case to take Arthur to court to get a full sentence.

Sherlock kept on at his brother, making Mycroft pull all the influential strings that he had to bring a court date forward and also to make sure the sentence was strong enough. But even with Mycroft influence (that wasn't extremely strong with in the American government) a court date wasn't set until a month after Arthur's arrest.

After a very lengthy trial, with evidence supplied, and statements and testimonies given, it had finally led up to that day with Sherlock sitting, knowing that any moment the twelve jury members would come to a verdict and then leave the foreman to announce their decision, to which the judge would give a sentence.

Sherlock zoned out, making a decision to organize the information in his brain to pass the time, deleting anything he deem unnecessary or irrelevant anymore.

The sound of his mobile ringing brought Sherlock to his senses.

**INCOMING CALL**

**MYCROFT HOLMES**

Sherlock sighed answering his phone, hoping for the best possible result from this case.

"Mycroft." Sherlock said, into the phone.

_"The jury have made their verdict and the judg-"_

"And? What was the sentence Mycroft?" Sherlock interrupting trying to get his brother to skip the petty details. The suspense was not amusing Sherlock in the slightest.

_"Well if you wont let me get to the sentence without interrupting. Then what do you think Sherlock?"_ Mycroft growled.

"Mycroft is a simple yes or no answer. Was. I. Right. I don't have time for your petty games." Sherlock complained getting impatient.

_"Arthur was found guilty on all accounts. Attempted murder, several counts as well as murder-"_ Mycroft started.

Sherlock interrupted, "And the sentence? What was Arthur's sentence."

_"Well normally that would get about twenty years in prison, possibly seventeen years with good behavio-."_ Mycroft started up again.

"That is not enough a sentence like that is going to teach him nothing! No sentence, will be enough. He will just come out and find Martha and kill her just like he did with his own son. You heard him threaten her. He won't give it a second thought-."

_"Sherlock. Enough. If you had listen I said the usual sentence, but luckily you have a influential brother, that happens to know the judge in person, that happens to know the judge in person and I arranged a meeting, and we discussed this case in detail and came to a mutual agreement that Arthur Hudson, may not look it, but he is a dangerous man. And that dangerous man in very close to the end of his tether. Letting him roam the streets is the wrong thing to do entirely, this one murder will turn into many more. So we decided stricter sentence was required."_ Mycroft explained, in his calm and placid tone.

_"And listening to you and your deductions and advice with this man, the judge decided that the death penalty was going to be the best, in prison Arthur would probably not last long anyway. A man of his age in a environment like that of a prison, he would be dead with in the first year. So the most humane thing to do, would be to give Arthur the death sentence. Lethal injection. So it is the best for everyone, it may have taken a few strings here and there."_

Sherlock gave a sigh of relief. Martha would be safe, and also he was right, proving to his brother that he was clean and he was fit to leave the center.

"Good." One word was all he gave his brother. A "thank you" was too much, Mycroft may have ensured a promised was kept, but a thanks was not deserved. "Now you know I was right, Mycroft I want out of here. You gave your word." Sherlock stated a few seconds later.

_"I want to speak to you first."_ Mycroft said.

"We can talk back home. I want out of here as soon as possible. You can deal with it. Let me know the details. Text me." Sherlock said before hanging up.

Sherlock settled back into the chair, going back to organizing his mind palace. He was pleased with the result of the court case.

A few hours later Sherlock was still in the chair, when a figure approached him from behind. Sherlock gazed out the window in a world of his own.

The figure tapped him on the shoulder, pulling Sherlock out of his trance. Sherlock turned round and looked at the figure. Martha looked at Sherlock with big eyes, tears filling in the corner of her eyes. "Sherlock." She smiled.

"Hello Martha. I am so sorry for what has happened over the last year." Sherlock said standing up and taking her into a hug.

"No. Sherlock do not feel sorry. I want to thank you for everything. You have given me peace at heart, and clearance over James' death. And I also want to say goodbye. I am moving back to London. I wanted to for a long time but Arthur wanted to remain here in America. So I am going back to my home, I will probably break the house down into flats and rent it out." Martha said patting Sherlock's arms, trying to comfort him.

"Good. A fresh start. Will be a good thing for you. You will have to keep in touch, and maybe I will pop in a visit sometime." Sherlock said.

Martha looked up at Sherlock, "You're going home?" Sherlock nodded.

Martha broke into a smile. "Sherlock I am so pleased for you! If you ever want a place to live in London, give me a call and I will sort you out. You have done so much for me and I am now in your debt." Martha said, giving Sherlock a squeeze.

After a few minutes, Martha pulled away, and glanced at her watch. She sighed slightly, "I have to go Sherlock, my flight is in a hour. I need to go now."

"Wait one moment." Sherlock said, before grabbing a small piece of paper and scribbling something down. "Here. It is my number. Phone me when you get back and you can give me your number, so I can keep in contact." Martha nodded at Sherlock taking the scrap of paper, and tucking it safely into her coat pocket.

The pair exchanged goodbyes, before Martha left waving a small good bye. Sherlock was left and went back zoning out, staring out the window.

A few hours later Sherlock's phone beeped, but Sherlock didn't notice, he was lost in his own thoughts.

**1 NEW MESSAGE**

**MYCROFT HOLMES**

Eventually Sherlock read the message from Mycroft;

_Sherlock,_

_Your flight is tomorrow at 13:00. Be ready by 11:00, a car will be waiting._

_-MH_

Sherlock was pleased. He was going home.

**A.N;**

**So I finally finished writing this chapter... It took a while, and I kept writing then deleting everything and starting over, but finally I am fairly happy with it. I didn't want to go into too much detail with the case, so kept to what I have written. so sorry to disappoint if you expected a huge, full-blown court case! :3 I will try to update soon, but highly doubt it will be this weekend as I am busy... :/ (But a good busy weekend! :D) So apologies! :D I thank you all again for you support! When I get an email saying someone has favourited/ followed this story it makes me smile so thank you! :D I hope to update as soon as possible! But for now thank you and please read and review! :D**


	15. Home at last

**A.N: Right age check, Sherlock is 24 and Mycroft is 27. (Wow they are getting old! :P) Also warning, rather emotional content, a lot of reminicing and Sherlock gets deep. **

Sherlock woke up, coming to his senses. The bed that he laid in felt unfamiliar, yet still in some ways it still felt familiar. Sherlock opened his eyes and glanced around the room he was in.

What he saw was not the blank white washed walls he had been greeted with every time he woke up for the last 4 years but, the walls were a light blue with burn marks in several places. Clutter filled the desks, books on chemistry and crime stacked up in several places on the floor. A poster of the periodic table hung on the wall. A petri dish overflowing with mould sat on the window sill.

Sherlock's mind cleared, he was home. He was sat in his room, the bedroom he had grown up in. Memories haunted him of things that had happened. Trying to distract himself Sherlock remembered how he had got here the previous day.

Mycroft had text him telling him about his flight the previous day, the day after Arthur's final court date. The plane arrived late that evening, a car awaited Sherlock on arrival, not letting him get a cab. Mycroft was not allowing a chances of Sherlock relapsing.

Sherlock had gone straight up to his room, his bags had already been put in his room, standing by the side of his door. Jet-lagged and exhausted, Sherlock went out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Leading to this moment in time where, Sherlock sat in his bed. Sounds in the house below caught Sherlock's attention, pots and pans crashed around.

Sherlock looked towards the door, standing up, he headed towards it. As he opened the door and went to step through it he was confronted. Mycroft stood blocking his path. "We need to talk. I kept my end of the bargain, now you keep yours." Mycroft stepped into the room, causing Sherlock to step backwards, back in to his room. Closing the door behind him, Mycroft gestured for Sherlock to take a seat.

Sherlock refused. "Mycroft. You know as well as I do that Mummy will want to come a spend sometime withme. So don't you think it best that we don't have this conversation here?"

Mycroft thought about what his brother had just said, before nodding, "We will, take this to the library."

The pair, left the room and walked along the familiar corridors in silence, before arriving at the library, opening the large solid oak doors. Mycroft nodded at Sherlock to go and sit in the chairs by the fire at the far end of the library. Sherlock headed towards the chairs, while Mycroft closed the doors. When Mycroft reached the chairs Sherlock had settled himself in the chair on the right.

Mycroft lowered himself into the chair opposite, hanging his ever present umbrella off the edge of the chair arm.

Sherlock frowned when he saw the umbrella, "Why do you _still_ lug that twig around? It's not even raining!" he growled.

Mycroft sighed, "You _know_ why Sherlock."

"Oh yes I forgot. You _were_ and _still_ are _his_ golden boy." Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft scowled at his brother, "You know fully well that, that is not the reason I carry this this around." Mycroft said, tapping the umbrella with his foot. Sherlock went to intercede, but Mycroft stopped him. "The reason I carry the umbrella around with me, is a constant reminder of how you were treated by our father..."

Sherlock snickered, disgusted at Mycroft's choice of words. Mycroft corrected himself, "Our step father. how he treated you was not right, and I should have put a stop to it. But you, in your stubbornness refused, I was not allowed to say anything under your orders."

"He gave _this_ to me the day his actions took a dark turn. Don't say that I wasn't , your whole behaviour and character changed. I was no longer "Crofty", the big brother who you came to, played with, looked up to. I was the reason behind your bruises, your cuts, and swollen eyes and lips."

Mycroft paused for a moment, allowing the words to sink in. Sherlock shifted in his chair, the memories he had locked away, blurred with the drugs, came flooding back. Mycroft also needed a moment to compose himself. The words he said reminded him the he was to blame, in his eyes and Sherlock's.

After the moment of silence Mycroft continued. "I want to know Sherlock. Why did you turn to drugs? Your mind to so brilliant, so special. It could do so much for the world, and yet you chose to drown it, destroy it, submerge it in the blackness supplied by drugs."

Sherlock's head dropped slightly, lowering in shame. But he remained silent.

Mycroft looked towards his brother wanting an answer. "Sherlock. Answer me."

Sherlock remained in silence for a short while longer, before speaking up. "Because I couldn't live with them anymore. The memories. Haunting me like a unwanted shadow, that you couldn't shake off no matter how much light you tried to bring into the life you live."

Mycroft glanced at Sherlock, "I know how much he hurt you. And I cant even begin to imagine how much those occasions must have haunted your dreams. But I still don't see why you would choose to turn to drugs, when talking to someone would have done the same job. It probably would have done a better one actu-."

Sherlock interrupted, "It was not just him. There was school. The bullies, the names. Then coming home to him and his punishments. The responsibility to keep Mummy in the dark from it all. It all became to much for me. I needed a release."

"Trying to take my life, to put a end to it all." Sherlock pulled up his shirt sleeve of his right arm, exposing the wrist. Faint scars, ran up and down, marking the skin.

Mycroft was shocked, he had not known about this, "When did you do this?" Mycroft asked, stumbling to get his words out.

Sherlock pulled his shirt sleeve back down, fastening the cuff buttons again. "I was just starting secondary school. Before the Carl Powers thing. The whole thing got to me. I needed the release, and obviously drugs were not a option back then. The thought crossed my mind about fully ending it. Escaping from the pain and the suffering. But when it actually came to doing it. I couldn't. My brain refused. It was like a child for the first time trying to break the rules, but when they try to do it something in the back of their mind stops them. So I continued with it all."

Mycroft sat stunned, feeling ashamed with himself for not noticing. It was his job as the older brother to notice these things and protect Sherlock from them.

Sherlock didn't stop there, everything he had bottled up over the years, he seemed to be letting it all pour out. "The first night when he hurt me, that vile man he had a look on his face that showed he enjoyed every minute of it. And when I accidently set fire to the kitchen, when you weren't here because you were at university. He pushed me down the stairs, like I was a rag doll. Giving it not a second thought."

"When Mummy went to visit her sister, after her husband had died. I was left alone with him for a whole week. I had to try and keep out of trouble, do nothing to upset him. I tried to take a page out of your book, but still it wasn't good enough. The punches were still thrown, palms still slapped against skin. Bruises formed, cuts bled. Yet I still fought on."

Sherlock had tears forming in his eyes, which Mycroft noticed, but he decided not to comment, he knew that Sherlock didn't need to feel ashamed of himself, not now.

Sherlock's hands flew to the side of his head, "I see it all, playing again and again in my head. Every moment playing simultaneously, each incident blurring into one another"

Sherlock began to tear and tug at his hair. Mycroft jumped up from his chair, pulling Sherlock's hands down to his sides. "Sherlock come on, calm down. It is all over now. he's gone and he can't hurt you anymore." Mycroft said calmly.

Sherlock composed himself, "I know. Mummy must _never_ know about this. What he did, no of that."

A voice cut through the room, "Too late."

Mycroft and Sherlock turned around and saw Amelia standing on the far side of the library. Sherlock froze, Mycroft spoke up, "Mummy. How much did you hear?"

Tears streamed down Amelia's face. "Enough. I heard enough to understand what is going on... Or I should say what _went_ on. How could you keep something like this from me? No don't answer that doesn't even matter. The worse part is that I didn't see what was going on and I wasn't there to protect my baby. To blinded by love to see what was going on in front of my own two eyes. Excuse me." Amelia stumbled out her words. Then ashamed of herself she left the room.

Sherlock turned to Mycroft, "This is_ your_ fault! You wanted to talk about all of this! She wouldn't have found out if it wasn't for you!" Sherlock roared before running after his mother. Mycroft grabbed his umbrella and followed behind.

**A.N: So there we go... Thought this was a good opportunity to bring in a few extra things about Sherlock into the mix... And thought some brotherly love and support was due! :D Also Amelia needed her vision cleared... Which I am sure a few of you will be pleased about... xD Took a while to write this. Well it didn't take that long to physically write but getting round to it took a lot of time. So sorry for that! But I had birthday plans, half term, interviews and illnesses which got in the way... -.- I am in a real rambling mood so I better stop while the going is good... :D Hope you enjoyed the chapter! let me know what you think... Pwettypwease? :3 Love you all! I'll try and update soon! :D**


	16. Now she knows

Sherlock ran out the library after Amelia, following the sound of her foot falls through the corridors of the house. Ahead of him a door slammed shut, the sound of a key turning in a lock echoing. Sherlock slowed down as he reached the door, "Mummy, open the door." Sherlock pleaded with his mother through the door.

Amelia sobbed through the door, "Go away please, Sherlock. I need some time to myself."

Sherlock refused to go, "Mummy listen to me, let me explain. Please, hear me out."

For a moment Sherlock stood in silence leaning against the door. A few moments later, Sherlock could hear Amelia approach the door and unlock the door. The door swung open, Amelia stood behind it, her face red and eyes puffy from crying. Sherlock pulled her into a hug. "Mummy. I am so sorry."

Amelia stood still for a moment, before pulling away from Sherlock, "You said you wanted to speak to me. So let's go sit down and talk."

Leading the way across the room to a sofa, Amelia remained silent. Sherlock sat down to his mother, looking at her before, beginning. "Mummy, there is a reason I didn't tell you what he was doing. I didn't you what he was doing. I didn't want to make you unhappy-"

Amelia cut Sherlock off, "You didn't want to upset me! By not telling me Sherly you have upset me even more than I would have if you told me before. Right now all I really want is you to be truthful with me Sherly. From what I heard you were the one at the receiving end of this all."

Sherlock sat shaking his head, Amelia saw this, "No. Sherlock I have the right to know about all this. Now that I know something, you might as well tell me in full detail. And don't go leaving out anything."

"Why don't you ask Mycroft seeing as he was the one who caused this." Sherlock snapped.

"Because Mycroft didn't live through what you have been through, and it will probably help you to talk about all the hurt and pain you have kept bottled up for all those years."

Sherlock sighed, before agreeing, "Okay I'll tell you..." So once again Sherlock talked about what had happened to him as a child. Telling it from beginning to end.

"So I was the reason he had a heart attack, in my drugged up state, I caused him to have a heart attack and die. I am the reason you are widowed, alone. And I know that you will hate me, disown me, and I accept that is the punishment and justice that I deserve." Sherlock finished, dropping his head, ashamed of who and what he was, and especially of what he had just told his Mother.

Amelia sat in silence for a moment, before pulling her boy into a hug, "Sherly I don't blame you for anything Darling. James deserved what he got from what you told me. And no matter what I will still always love you. I just wish you had told me, so I could have done something, I could have stopped it all those years ago."

Sherlock hugged Amelia, a feeling of relief ran through him, she didn't blame him and still loved him. But yet Sherlock still felt so guilty that his mother now had this knowledge as a burden, it would forever be at the back of her mind knowing that she could have done something, that she should have seen the signs. For that Sherlock still felt terribly guilty.

After a few minutes sitting in the embrace a knock sounded on the door, Sherlock pulled away from Amelia, "What do you want Mycroft?" Sherlock yelled through the door.

Mycroft opened the door, "I came to see if everything was okay." He said stepping into the room.

"We are okay Mycroft, no thanks to you. Mummy, please excuse me but I need to go." Sherlock growled, before looking towards his mother, he tone lightening up slightly.

Amelia nodded, "Of course Darling." Sherlock stood up and left, glaring at his brother as he left the room.

Sherlock walked back through the corridors, grabbing his coat, before heading out the front door.

Walking along the still familiar street, Sherlock walked towards the town. With only his own thoughts as company Sherlock was flooded with guilt. The expression on Amelia's face when she listened to Sherlock's tale, the blank tone she used to begin with. He was the cause of all that.

Coming to a halt in the middle of the path Sherlock broke down, grateful that there was no one else present. Pounding his fists against his head, desperate to get the images, and the words out of his mind, again and again, hoping for it to work.

The idea popped into his head, even though he fought to keep it back. Sherlock went into autopilot. Walking through streets, and then taking the bus and the underground, arriving in his destination.

Still he fought with his mind to turn back, he couldn't do this, he couldn't go back to what he was. He had caused Amelia enough pain and enough shame. Standing in the familiar alleyway, Sherlock silently fought with himself. But it was too late the dealer had clocked him and was already beginning to walk towards Sherlock.

"Can help you my dear man?" He asked.

"Yes… no.. I don't know… But yes… I don't want… I can't…" Sherlock stammered.

The man smiled, "Let me help, you out I have just what you need…" He reached into his pocket. Something over the other side of the road caught Sherlock's attention. He smiled.

"I am sorry, but I no longer require you services." Sherlock said, before running over the road.

This was just what he needed.

**A.N: HELLOOO! :D Right sorry it took so long to write especially as it is quite a short one... But I have been really busy with school work... But to celebrate Sherlock filming, I refuse to do any work in my lessons of nothing, until I had finished this! So in theory; HAPPY SHERLOCK FILMING TIME! WE ARE GETTING CLOSER AND CLOSER! So exciting! ;D Any way! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thinking about it there isn't actually that many more left to write... :( So let me know what you think of the chapter? Please? Thank you to new story followers! HELLO TO YOU! Also there is a possiblity that chapters may get put up quicker, as my mum has banned me from reading any books until June... :( so I will have a lot of free time to write, though there is a high possibility that I will be in a corner crying, rocking back and forth... So keep fingers crossed this may work in your favour! ;) Anyway must dash have work to do, and I a babbling! **

**THANK YOU PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! *HUGS* **


	17. At last a distraction

Sherlock crossed the road, before ducking under the "Police line do not cross tape", surrounding the building. He caught sight of the nearest police officer, a woman about the same age as Sherlock. Sherlock walked towards her making himself look as if he belonged there. "What's going on Police Constable... err Donovan?"

Sally, who had been standing in the cold for the last hour, looked up at the man who was suddenly asking her something, paying attention to her. She smiled when she saw him, "It is a murder Sir."

"Right get your superior officer out here then, I need to speak to the person in charge." Sherlock smiled, adding authority to his voice.

Sally nodded, before reaching for her radio, "Lestrade, Sir?"

"_Yes Donovan?"_ The voice crackled through the radio.

"Sir there is a man here to see you; I think you should come out here." Sally stuttered.

"_Okay I'll be two seconds." _

Sally smiled at Sherlock, "He is on his way Sir. He won't be a moment."

Sherlock smirked, "I gathered."

A few moments later. Lestrade emerged from the front door. He looked towards Sally and saw a tall man, dressed in a sharp suit, long dark coat. Lestrade panicked, concluding that he must have been from Head Quarters, there to check up on him. How he was coping with his promotion, and unfortunately he wasn't doing very well.

Sherlock noticed Lestrade and started walking towards him, "Detective Inspector Lestrade I presume." Sherlock said, his hand outstretched.

Lestrade nodded, shaking Sherlock's hand. "You presume correctly Sir. May I ask why you are here Sir?" Lestrade asked.

"Oh you know, just have a look around, see how things are getting on, and maybe even lend a hand if needs be. Just the usual." Sherlock smiled, trying hard to keep a calm façade, so that no one read through his lies.

"Of course Sir. Well if you would like to follow me." Lestrade mumbled, gesturing for Sherlock to follow him.

Lestrade led Sherlock into the building, a small corner shop. They walked straight through to the office in the back room, Lestrade started to talk Sherlock through what had happened. "Right Sir, we have a double homicide, male and female. Gunshot wounds to both. Two shots in the male's abdomen probably died from the major loss of blood, and one through the female's heart, most likely dead within seconds. Other than that, we have nothing else to go on." Sherlock smiled, looking around the room taking every bit of detail in.

"Oh I wouldn't say that..." Sherlock commented, bending down to get a closer look at the bodies.

Lestrade glanced at Sherlock, "What do you mean Sir?" he questioned.

Sherlock stood back up, then looked at Lestrade, "Simple, we have a homicidal jealous fiancée."

Lestrade stood there with a puzzled look over his face. "How can you tell exactly?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Simple, the man is wearing an engagement ring, while the woman is not, but the pair are obviously in a relationship. The lipstick the woman is wearing is the same as the one that is on the man's shirt collar and also his neck. The woman was shot through the heart, subconsciously showing that the gunman, or should I say "woman", thought that the deceased woman was heartless, knowing the man she was in a physical relationship with was engaged. The man was shot in the abdomen, _very_ low in the abdomen. Our murder missed her original target, her aim was _too_ high."

Beside Sherlock, Lestrade realised what he meant and gulped. Sherlock smiled slightly laughing at Lestrade's reaction, before continuing with his deductions. "Under the desk in the corner, is another engagement ring, most likely where after the pair were both murdered, the murder took her ring off and threw it at her ex- fiancée in disgust, where is bounced off him and landed where it is now."

Sherlock looked at Lestrade, who didn't seem fully convinced with Sherlock's deductions. Sighing slightly, Sherlock continued divulging information. He was determined to make Lestrade believe him, not wanting to be pushed aside, like he was as a boy, even though he knew he was right. "It was the man's fiancée that did the shooting, as there are footprints by the door, too small to be a man's, yet too big for a child, these belong to a woman. They can't belong to our dead female over there, she is wearing heels, and those foot prints are clearly from flat soled shoes. Also the footprints show up a lot of mud, and the victim's shoes are relatively clean. On the wall next to the footprints are faint gunpowder burns and also a scrape along the wall, the woman has not fired a gun before so when it fired she was pushed back from the force and fell against the wall, causing the mark. How low the mark on the wall is shows that the woman is petit..." Sherlock bent down to the male's body, reaching into the right pocket, pulling out the man's wallet.

He flicked through the wallet before finding what he had been looking for, smiling before showing Lestrade what he had been looking for. Inside the wallet was a picture of the man and his fiancée, who was about a foot smaller than him. "I would say that she is about the right height for our shooter, wouldn't you Detective Inspector?"

Lestrade stood shocked, nodding in agreement, as the deductions began to make sense in Lestrade's head. Sherlock was pleased with himself, finally getting the Police to believe in his deductions. "If you don't fully trust, me you can find the fiancee and interrogate her, and judging by her actions here, she is not in her right frame of mind, and will most likely breakdown and confess, and she will most likely have gun powder burns on her fingers and probably a small graze on her left elbow from where she fell against the wall."

Lestrade nodded, stumbling for his radio, "Donovan?"

_"Yes Sir?"_ "Get me one of the police cars, and bring it round the front, I need to go talk to a few people."

_"I'll do that right away Sir."_ "Also, Donovan, can you radio through to control and find out the contact details for the next of kin of a..." Lestrade paused taking the wallet from Sherlock's hands, before pulling out a credit card and reading off the name, "Alec Cunningham."

_"Will do, Boss." _

Sherlock scowled at Lestrade as he finished talking on the radio, "You don't believe me."

Lestrade shrugged, "I believe you alright, but you know the rules, innocent until proven guilty. Besides, Donovan is also a bit of a blabber mouth, and I thought I would keep this information quiet for a bit, until I have spoken with the suspect, and bring her in."

Sherlock sighed with relief, before glancing at his watch. Mycroft would soon send out a search party for him if he didn't get back soon. "Well I must dash Lestrade. Things to do, people to see." Sherlock said turning towards the door.

Lestrade grabbed Sherlock's hand and shook it, "Thank you, Sir. You have been a great help today. Maybe I'll see you around Head Quarters sometime and I may just have to buy you a drink. But I didn't catch your name." Lestrade grinned.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes, and I really must dash." Sherlock said quickly, before rushing out the door. He walked back out the way he came, straight past a flirting Sally Donovan and out of sight, before breaking into a very happy run.

Lestrade made his way out of the shop and got into the car before driving to the address to talk with his suspect.

* * *

Mycroft was waiting for Sherlock as he walked through the front door. "Where have you been?" He asked.

"Out. Keeping myself occupied..." Sherlock grinned.

Mycroft glared at Sherlock, "Upstairs. Drugs test. Now. You are not relapsing again, so if you go out without a valid reason, you will do a drugs test to prove you are clean. Understood?"

Sherlock went to interrupt but Mycroft stopped him, "It is either that or I put you in another centre. I am not losing you to drugs, Sherlock. So make your decision. Test or centre." Mycroft said before turning to leave.

Sherlock swore under his breath, before heading upstairs to do Mycroft's drug test.

**A.N: **

**Well hello again! :D It has been a long time! A month and two days. I am really ashamed at myself and I am really REALLY sorry, it took so long! Please forgive me! :3 But I finished my work, and still have a lesson in which I can do some writing and I will TRY and get the next chapter up as it should only be a small, but rather important one! Anyway 39 story followers! I seriously want to HUG you all! Hmm what to say about the chapter... hmm well my favourite part has to be the little protective Mycroft moment at the end, even though it means his is being a complete and utter pain in the backside! And GREGORY! Lestrade has finally made an apperence! YAY! ;D Anywho, better get writing! What do you think? **

**Please read and review! **

**Oh also, sorry for any mistakes, I am getting my Beta to look over it. But thought I should be nice and give you atleast something. So will change any mistakes slightly later on, once my Beta has given me a list! :3 (Corrections have been made now! :D) **


	18. Consulting Detective

**A.N: The begin of the chapter is slightly after the last scene in the last chapter, then there is a time jump! But I will try and make it as clear as possible. :D Enjoy! **

Lestrade sat at his desk, filling through the tonnes of paperwork in front of him. Sherlock Holmes had been right, the fiancée, broken-down in interrogation and confessed to everything.

A quick and rather easy case for once, but it was still the same amount of paperwork to fill out.

Lestrade's mind began to wonder. He hadn't seen Sherlock about, and hadn't been able to thank him and buy him a drink. Desperate for a excuse to stop with the paperwork, Lestrade turned on his computer, pushed the paperwork aside. Bringing up the Police's internal database, where everyone's department, and line number was stored, Lestrade typed his search in.

**Holmes, Sherlock.**

It took less than a second for the database had completed it's search.

******No results found. **

Lestrade was confused for a moment, and searched his query again.

**No results found. **

He tried different spellings, again and again.

**No results found. **

Lestrade leaned back into his chair wondering what to do. Sitting for a few moments in silence, thinking, before sitting forward again and trying something new. Bringing up the general database, he tried his search again.

**Holmes, Sherlock. **

One result popped up on-screen, Lestrade clicked on it. Reading through, he swore to himself.  
He had been such an idiot.

_**One week later.**_

The doorbell at the Holmes' mansion rang, one of the Butlers answered the door. As the door swung open, Lestrade gazed into the grand hallway.  
"Can I help you?"

Lestrade fought with his nerves to answer, "I am looking for a Mr Holmes?"

The Butler smiled, "Right this way Sir."

Lestrade was led through the grand house. Down the second corridor on the left, then down another corridor on the right, stopping outside the third door on the left. The Butler, knocked the door. "Master Holmes there is a man here to see you."

A voice called through the door, "Come in." The Butler nodded at Lestrade to go in, before taking his leave.

Lestrade walked through the door closing it behind him, he saw the figure standing at the window, his back facing him. "Sherlock, I need to speak you. You pretended to be from the Yard and that is serious offense."

Mycroft turned round and looked at the Detective Inspector, "I hate to disappoint but I am not Sherlock. However, I would love to hear what my baby brother has been up to."

Lestrade felt awkward. He had just started talking to a man he didn't know at all about a very serious matter that could affect his job. "I am sorry Sir, but I was looking for Sherlock Holmes. I must have been mistaken. I think I better leave."

"No, no. Sherlock Holmes does live here, but is out at the moment. Although, like I said a moment ago, I would like to know what my baby brother has been up too." Mycroft said, as he walked to his desk and sat down in his chair.

"I am sorry Sir, but I don't know who you are, and this is a matter I need to speak with Sherlock about." Lestrade growled.

"Well let me tell you this, either you tell me what my brother has been up to, or I will have you put on report and you could lose that recent promotion of yours." Mycroft calmly stated, with a blank expression.

"You can't do that..." Lestrade snapped.

Mycroft reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, and opened it, "Oh, but you see, Inspector. I can."

Lestrade looked at the open wallet, looking closely at what Mycroft was showing him.

**Level Seven Clearance. **

"This can't be real..." Lestrade muttered.

"Oh but it is. So now you are going to tell me what my brother has been up to, aren't you?" Mycroft smiled, while Lestrade nodded. Mycroft put away his clearance badge, "Well do take a seat Detective Inspector. I have been very rude, I haven't introduced myself. I am Mycroft, the elder Holmes. I take it that you have already met my brother, Sherlock. May I ask, one: Who are you exactly? Two: How do you know Sherlock? And three: What brings you here?"

Lestrade sat down in the chair opposite Mycroft, "Sorry, my name is Gregory Lestrade, and I am a Detective Inspector for Scotland Yard. I met you brother about a week ago at a crime scene."

"Please tell me he wasn't the reason behind the crime scene..." Mycroft sighed, looking slightly worried.

"No, no. He turned up, acted official, and umm solved the crime in about ten minutes, before rushing off. He impersonated a Yard Officer, which is a serious offence and I shou-"

Mycroft cut Lestrade off, "You should what? Did you ask to see identification?" Mycroft challenged.

"I... I... ummm." Lestrade stuttered trying to think of something, in his defense.

"I'll take that as a no then shall I? I think I should. So how did my brother impersonate an officer, if you didn't ask for a badge? You are not very thorough are you? You are a Detective Inspector, but you allow anyone to walk onto your crime scene."

Lestrade sank into his chair.

Mycroft continued, "I should get you stripped of your badge for that..." Lestrade went to open his mouth in protest. "But I have a proposition to make instead Inspector."

Lestrade sighed in relief, "I am all ears Mr Holmes."

"I want you to call my brother in every so often. When you are struggling on a case. And I want you to ask for his assistance. Consult with him. This is all I ask, in return, I will let you keep your badge, and pretend the incident never occurred. I may even help lighten you finance situation..."

Lestrade shook his head, "I don't want the money. I just want the opportunity to keep my badge and make up for my mistakes."

Mycroft leaned back in his chair, "Very well. But the offer still stands on the table, if you should ever change your mind..."

Mycroft looked up at Lestrade, "Now, I am sorry to kick you out, but I have matters to attend to. And you have things to discuss with my brother."

"That is fine Mr Holmes, I am sorry for barging in on you. Thank you for speaking to me." Lestrade said, before turning to leave.

"Oh Gregory?" Mycroft called, while shuffling through paper work.

Lestrade stopped, "Yes Mr Holmes?"

"You and I _never_ had this discussion. Understood?"

"Of course." Lestrade nodded before making his way out.

As Lestrade shut the door to Mycroft's office, he noticed that the Butler had returned.

"Would you like to see Master Sherlock now Sir?" he grinned.

Lestrade rolled his eyes, "If you don't mind taking me to him please."

"Of course Sir." The Butler said before, leading Lestrade through the mansion, until he reached his destination, several corridors later.

Knocking on the door, the Butler called through the door, "Master Sherlock, you have a visitor Sir."

Sherlock yelled back, "If it is Mycroft, tell his to shove whatever therapy, or drug test he wants me to do right up his-"

The Butler quickly interrupted, "No Master Sherlock, an Inspector was here to see you Sir."

Footsteps sounded from behind the door, before the sound of a lock turning and the door swinging open. Sherlock stood in the doorway, dressed in loungy clothing and a flannel dressing gown. "Ah. Lestrade." Sherlock, said nervously.

"Afternoon Sherlock. Could I speak to you for a moment." Lestrade asked.

The Butler took this as his moment to leave, "Is there anything else I can do for you Master Sherlock?"

Sherlock shook his head, "No thank you, you may go."

The Butler nodded before turning and leaving.

"Lestrade, umm, do come in." Sherlock said gesturing into the room. Sherlock walked in and sat on the bed, crossing his legs underneath him. Lestrade stood awkwardly by the door until Sherlock nodded towards the chair at the desk a few feet from the door.

"Sherlock..."Lestrade started.

"Lestrade, I am sorry. I know what I did was wrong... but it was slightly your fault, you didn't ask for any identification..." Sherlock interrupted.

"So I have realised..." Lestrade muttered, starting to get annoyed that the Holmes brothers wouldn't let him say his part, before interrupting him.

"But you can't be that mad at me... You caught you criminal, so I help-"

"Sherlock! Would you let me finish!" Lestrade yelled, finally losing his patience, "I know what you did was wrong. I know I am partly to blame. I am glad you realise your mistakes. I am now in your debt in some ways... The Yard were ready to demote me, so far I haven't been too successful and I have mad far too many mistakes. You solving that crime for me has made the Yard reconsider their plans. So I was going to ask you, before you interrupted me, if you would consider lending me and hand every now and then. You know when I am really struggling. I'll pay you if you wanted."

Sherlock went wide-eyed with excitement, "You want to consult me on cases?"

Lestrade shrugged, "When I am struggling, yes."

"So, quite often then?"

"I am not that bad!"

"You just said so yourself! Besides if you were struggling on a case as simple as the one last week, I think you will be contacting me much more than just 'often' You are a bit of an idiot to be honest." Sherlock commented.

"Hey! I a-"

"Don't worry, most people are idiots, you are borderline." Sherlock said, with a gesture of his hand.

"Right."

The pair sat in silence for a while, "You will want my contact details then." Sherlock said, breaking the silence.

"I already have them." Lestrade stated.

"Well why didn't you just text me then?"

Lestrade hesitated for a moment, "I wanted to talk to you in person."

"You were originally going to arrest me. Weren't you?"

"No! Of course not!"

"What changed you mind? Was it Mycroft? Did he put you up to this?" Sherlock asked, glaring.

"No! Who is Minecraft?"

"Its Mycroft. It's okay then, you haven't met him. Especially if you are calling him 'Minecraft'." Sherlock snickered.

Silently Lestrade gave a sigh of relief, wondering what Mycroft would have done if Sherlock had known Mycroft was the one who had changed his mind.

Lestrade shuffled in his chair, considering if he should take his leave., "So are you allowing me to consult you?"

Sherlock gave Lestrade a puzzled look, "Of course! I would gladly help, you out! I'll be a, ummm, De- no, con-. Ah got it! I will be a Consulting sounds about right. Is there such thing as a Consulting Detective? I don't think there is. Oooh I like this job already! The only Consulting Detective in the world." Sherlock smiled, not paying attention to Lestrade's attempts to answer Sherlock's questions, which he ended up answering himself.

"Erm, okay. Well Sherlock I hate to run, but I have work to be getting on with."

Sherlock waved it off, "It's fine I have an experiment to be getting on with."

Lestrade nodded, "Thank you Sherlock." Sherlock made some sort of grunt in acknowledgement, already deeply lost in thought.

Lestrade left, and walked back through the house trying to remember the route he had been brought through, not ten minutes earlier. After getting lost several times, the Butler found him.

"Trying to find the exit Sir?" the Butler asked with a slight chuckle in his voice. Lestrade nodded, before following the Butler to the front door.

The Butler held the door open for Lestrade, "Thank you for coming by Detective Inspector."

Lestrade smiled, "No thank you for helping me. I never asked your name."

"Xavier, sir."

"Well thank you Xavier."

"It was a pleasure Sir." Xavier smiled before, closing the door behind Lestrade.

* * *

**Thank you Detective Inspector. You may have saved my brother. -MH**

**A.N: Well that was written rather quickly… (Well for me that is! :D) It kind of wrote itself! But I did have a four hour bus journey to write it… It is the typing it up that took a while… :D Anyway… Our Consulting Detective is now a actual Consulting Detective! :D FINALLY! :D They are so grown up! :'D**

**Hmm I think I should explain Xavier… Basically I felt guilty for calling his 'The Butler' the whole chapter… So I decided I should give him a name… I was going to call him Jeeves or Gerald to begin with but I had seen a Baby called Xavier earlier that day… so it was decided! xD**

**Anyway Minecraft, I mean Mycroft, ( It had to be put in! I was on a bus when I wrote this and my hand writing made it look like 'Minecraft' instead of Mycroft, and it just became part of the story… :'D Sorry Mycroft! :D) was being a protective, yet big interfering brother! YAY! Anyway I am babbling from exhaustion! Must dash! Pwease read and review! WUV YOU ALL! :D**

**Now beta'd :D **


	19. Don't make me go back

**A.N: Slight-ish drug use. Hysterical Sherlock, scared Lestrade, Mycroft being Mycroft, and a lot of other things...**

* * *

**Lestrade. –SH**

**What? You know you can just tell or ask me whatever it is before you gain my attention. I will answer. –Lestrade**

**You're wrong. –SH **

**About what exactly? –Lestrade**

**The Hatherly case. -SH **

**Oh? How so this time? –Lestrade**

**Come to Camden Park Road and I'll show you. –SH **

**Give me half an hour. –Lestrade**

Sherlock paced back and forth on the opposite side of the road, to the house that he was interested in. He glanced at his phone for the time. Lestrade was late. Sherlock knew that the man he was after would soon leave the house and Sherlock would lose him. It would take weeks to find him again.

Sherlock couldn't let that happen.

He crossed the road, before slipping down the alleyway to the back of the house. Sherlock pulled himself over the gate into the back garden, landing on the broken patio. Pulling a small tool kit out of his coat pocket, Sherlock quickly and quietly picked the lock to the back door.

As the door swung open in his hand Sherlock glanced around him, making sure that no one was around or had saw him break in. Sherlock entered the house slowly, shutting the door behind him. Slowly he crept through the kitchen and into the hallway.

In Sherlock's pocket his phone bleeped. Sherlock swore under his breath. Sherlock quickly turned his phone on silent, before glancing at the text message.

**Where are you? You are not where you said you would be. –Lestrade **

Sherlock quickly typed his reply, putting this phone away in his pocket.

**24. –SH**

He carried on through the hallway. AS Sherlock walked through the doorway to the dining room, someone walked out of a hidden door leading to a basement.

Sherlock walked into the dining room, glancing around the room, searching for his culprit. The man he was looking for silently crept up behind him, pulling a needle from his back pocket of his jeans.

Sherlock stopped dead in the centre of the room, the man made a lunge for Sherlock, plunging the needle into his neck, pushing the plunger.

"Why are you here? Are you with the Police? Tell me." He said voice raised, letting go of the needle, removing his gloves. Sherlock began to freak out, pulling the needle carefully from his neck.

"What? What is this? What have you given me?" Sherlock asked, glaring at the needle.

"Coke, the strong stuff. You didn't answer my question."

That first word set Sherlock off, he began to freak out, pacing back and forth, "Why? Why would you do this? I can't go back!"

At that moment they heard a crashing sound from the door, "Open up this is the Police." Lestrade's voice called through the wood.

The man looked towards Sherlock before running towards the back door.

A second crash caused the lock to break, Lestrade walked through, gun up in front of him. He walked through the hallway, glancing in each room making sure it was clear before moving on.

Lestrade turned into the next room, noticing a figure crouched in the corner of the room. "Hands where I ca-. Sherlock?" Lestrade said lowering his gun.

"He's gone."Sherlock muttered. Lestrade sighed, and put his gun away.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" Lestrade asked, noticing Sherlock was slowly sinking closer to the ground.

"Go away. Leave me alone. I need to be alone."

"Sherlock, tell me what's wrong? Tell me." Lestrade asked, persistent.

Sherlock snapped rounded, pupils wide, lunging for Lestrade, before quickly come back to his senses and drawing back. Tearing at his head, Sherlock withdrew back to the corner. "No. No. No. Please no. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I don't know what I am doing right now.

Lestrade pulled his phone out of his pocket sending a text.

**Something's wrong with your brother. I don't know what to do. –Lestrade**

A few moments after he sent the text, his phone bleeped with a reply.

**What is wrong? What has happened? –MH **

**I found him in a house, pupils wide, mood swings. –Lestrade**

**Where are you? –MH **

Lestrade text the address, before checking on Sherlock again. "Sherlock, please tell me. Are you okay?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? Leave me alone! I haven't done anything. I haven't." Sherlock growled.

**I'll be less than five minutes. –MH**

"Sherlock I need to know what has happened. Otherwise I can't help you." Lestrade pleaded.

Sherlock turned around, tears in his eyes, "I didn't do it. I didn't want to. I didn't do it, I didn't mean to I swear."

Lestrade didn't understand Sherlock, he seemed to be delusional.

"I can't go back. I can't. I don't want to. I was doing so well. I need this. I need to be out here doing what I am." Sherlock mumbled. The more Sherlock said, the more he broke down. Flipping between hysterical and furious in a millisecond.

Lestrade silently wished for Mycroft to hurry up. "Sherlock you need to calm down, you're delusional. You need to explain what happened."

"I have! You're just not listening!" Sherlock yelled.

A few minutes later, footsteps sounded through the hallway, Mycroft turned the corner, entering the room.

Sherlock saw Mycroft and snapped at Lestrade. "You phoned him! Why? Why would you do that?" Sherlock roared. Lestrade opened his mouth to answer, but Mycroft cut him off.

"It's his duty. Why would you do this again Sherlock? You were doing so well without them."

"But I didn't Mycroft! I swear. I didn't do it!" Sherlock begged.

"Don't lie to me Sherlock. I can see, what has happened, clear as day, and you have. So don't say you haven't."

"But it wasn't consented Mycroft! I didn't want to! Please listen to me!"

Lestrade stood confused, "Will someone explain what is going on right now?"

Mycroft explained, "My brother had a slight problem with narcotics a few years ago. We made a deal. Part of that deal was that he was not allowed to touch them again."

"But I didn't want to! I was attacked! I didn't want them! Crofty, please listen to me. Please don't make me go back there. I'll lose my mind in there. I swear I wasn't going to touch them. Please listen to me for once, please. Don't be your usual ice self." Sherlock pleaded, basically begging on his knees.

"But you agreed if you went on the drugs again, you'd be put back and not allowed to leave." Mycroft stated.

"Yes. I know but I didn't willingly take the drugs for fuc-."

"Language Sherlock!"

"I am sorry Mycroft. But you're not listening to me!"

"I am. I am taking you're best interests into consideration."

"But you're not!" Sherlock roared, losing his temper. "You know that if I go back in there, I will lose my mind. _You_ will have led me to insanity."

Mycroft stood thinking for a moment, "I need to think. You need to let the effects wear off and get it out of your system."

"There is nothing to think about!"

Mycroft took a step towards Sherlock, pointing his umbrella at him. "You should be grateful, that I am not shipping you out today. I had a plane ready. Be grateful for that Sherlock."

Sherlock went quiet. Mycroft stepped back, gesturing for Lestrade to follow him for a second.

"I want you to take Sherlock somewhere safe until the drugs wear off. Then when his is clean of them, bring him to the house." Mycroft said, once they had left the room.

Lestrade nodded, "You aren't going to send him away are you. I truly believe he didn't want to take the drugs."

Mycroft lowered his head, "Of course not. I just need to find out if he had or not. I wouldn't have got a true answer any other way."

Lestrade gave a silent sigh of relief.

Mycroft looked back at Lestrade. "Well I must get going Detective Inspector. Thank you for your help and thank you for contacting me."

Lestrade nodded, and watched Mycroft leave the through the front door, and head towards a shiny black car parked outside.

Lestrade went back into the dining room, and helped Sherlock off the floor. "Come on you. You're going to stay with me for the night."

He supported Sherlock as they walked back through the house, making a mental note to call in sick for the rest of his shift.

**A.N: **

**Hellooo, sorry for the hold up, but in the middle of exams. I had a spare moment so thought I should type this chapter up for you guys. (Plus I needed a break from revision.) Anyway, it had to happen really. It just seemed something that needed to happen, and I cant explain why... Oh well... But anyway hope you enjoyed it! And I will try to update soon, but exams are a bit of a hold up at the moment... So cant make any promises... Please read and review. :D (Corrections have now been made! :D ) **


	20. Molly Hooper

Sherlock woke up on a strange sofa, the smell of coffee heavy in the air. Sitting up carefully - his head pounding - Sherlock took in his surroundings. The house belonged to a married couple. The wife was away and the husband was home alone at the moment. Slowly Sherlock fitted the pieces together, this house belonged to -

"Morning," Lestrade said, entering the room with two cups of coffee.

"Lestrade," Sherlock nodded, taking the cup of coffee that Lestrade offered him.

"My head is a bit sore. Why am I here? Why didn't I go home yesterday?" Sherlock asked, after taking a sip of his pipping hot drink.

Lestrade looked down into his mug, "Your brother wanted you somewhere safe for the night. He didn't want you to end up hanging around with the wrong crowd while you were like that. So I thought you would prefer spending the night here, instead of in a jail cell."

"In other words he didn't want me to go anywhere near a drug dealer. I know he is planning to ship me off, so I don't threaten his precious career." Sherlock mumbled.

"He's not. He just wants you to calm down and get the drugs out of your system. That's all." Sherlock looked at Lestrade, doubt written all over his face. "I mean it! He won't "ship" you off. He cares about you and he doesn't want to lose you. He was extremely worried about you," Lestrade persisted.

Sherlock gave a half hearted snort.

Lestrade held up is hands in defeat, "Fine if you don't want to believe me, then suit yourself."

"Mycroft treats me like dirt, and puts his career before everything else, especially family. He doesn't care."

"And that is how he copes with life, he is worried that he will lose his family, he knows that he eventually will, and doesnt want to sit and watch something bad happen to them. So he dives into his work, keeps himself occupied. Beside you two are different, it is how you show emotions - by being complete and utter arses to each other and having a go at one another as much as possible. The only problem is that you don't seem to realise it! I see it and I'm supposed to be the idiot."

Sherlosk sat pondering the thought over for a moment, suddenly he stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality Lestrade but I still have a case to solve."

"Umm no. I have to take you to see your brother - " Lestrade protested.

"My brother can wait," Sherlock growled.

"Mycroft told me to take you too him," Lestrade persisted.

"Well Mycroft can wait. I don't care what he wants. I am busy, I'll see him when I am good and ready. In the mean time, goodbye," Sherlock said before leaving.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade called after him, despite knowing that he wasn't going to come back, no matter what Lestrade said.

* * *

Sherlock arrived at Saint Bartholomew's Hospital twenty minutes after leaving Lestrade's house. He needed to test a theory, but he would require a dead body to do so. The morgue could supply him with one.

Sherlock blended into the crowds of people that were entering the hospital. Being 10am a mixture of staff and patients passed through the doors. He found the hospital map not far from the main reception. Sherlock's eyes scanned over the map for several seconds before he planned his route. He started making his way there within two minutes of entering the hospital, not pausing for a single second. Just listening to the bulit in SAT nav in his brain. A few minutes later he was standing outside the door.

Sherlock glanced through the window. No one was inside the room. Grateful that no one was there, Sherlock sneaked into the room. He looked towards the trolleys that were in the room, the bodies laid out in their body bags. Sherlock fliped through the paperwork, looking for one that had already been processed. Eventually he found one that had. Sherlock placed the notes back and walked over to the right body bag.

Sherlock turned away from the trolley for a second to find a piece of paper to jot down notes on, when a woman with mousy brown hair walked into the room, arms full of paper work.

She noticed Sherlock as the doors closed behind her, "Oh my God." she screeched, dropping all of her paperwork. Quickly she scrambled to pick up the papers that covered the floor.

"Ahh." Sherlock muttered, before helping the woman with her paper work.

As Sherlock knelt down beside her the woman began to speak, "Ex-excuse me? Wh-who are you? What are you doing here?" She stumbled.

"Umm.. Well you see... I am." Sherlock muttered trying to think of a valid excuse, as the truth was not a really good enough reason and would cause all sorts of complications.

"I am going to get security and get them to call the police." The woman announced. An idea formed in Sherlock head.

"But you see I am with the police. My name is Sherlock Holmes by the way." He said extenting his hand awkwardly.

"Well it still doesn't explain what you are doing in here without permission, and taking bodies out that have already been processed. Besides, Mr Smith, over there died of natural causes, so I can't see what he'll have to do with you investigation."

Sherlock began to to argue his case forward, "The case has nothing to do with the John Doe over the..."

The woman interuprted, "He's not a John Doe. We know exactly who he is."

Sherlock carried on, "In my mind he is a John Doe, it doesn't matter to me. Anyway, I need to investigate something and I need a body to do so."

"You can't just come in and start investigating something on a random body. That's against their wishes! You can only do something like that on a body that has been donated to science by the deceased. We have none at the moment so I can't help you." The woman protested.

"Damn." Sherlock swore under his breath, "Can't I just do it anyway?"

The woman looked shooked, "No! I don't believe you are the police. Can I see your ID? Otherwise I am phoning the police." She picked up a phone and started dialling, leaving the last number.

"I umm don't have any." Sherlock muttered, "But I am with the police! Actually phoning them is a excellent idea. Phone them and ask for Dectective Inspector Lestrade, he will confirm that I am with the police."

The woman typed in the last number, looking at Sherlock weirdly, "Hello. Scotland Yard? This is Molly Hooper from Saint Bart's Hospital Morgue. I need to speak to Dectective Inspector Lestrade."

**A.N:**

**HI! I am sorry for the big wait, I had exams but they are over now... :D OH HAPPY DAYS! :D So a chapter for you, as gift for being so patient and amazing! It was going to be slightly longer than it is but I thought that it might be better to split this one into two, and I can give you the first half now! :D Okay I know Molly is more confident at the moment than she is in the show, but I do give her a reason to become slightly more intimidated by Sherlock, and become really shy around him! :3 Ahh it feels really strange that I haven't finished, and I am on Chapter 20 already, as my orignal plan was only 20 chapters long... (I feel sorry for the piece of paper I wrote this on because it looks like it is ready to give up the will to live, it is extremely ripped... :( ) I AM BABBLING! Exams have not given my brain chances to ramble and you are suffering from that... I am sorry! Anyway I really hope you enjoy! Please read and review and I hope to get the next chapter up soon! :D **

**HUGS!  
**

**(Corrections made.) **


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